


The Grand Reveal

by SullustanGin



Series: Corellian Whiskey and Sullustan Gin [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Betrayal, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat chapter, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Espionage, F/M, First Kiss, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Torture, Liberation of Slave Camps, Minor Character Death, Miscarriage, Mystery, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Pirates, Poisoning, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Revenge, Slavery, Slow Burn, Some Humor, Space Pirates, Star Wars: The Old Republic - Shadow of Revan, Whump, please read warnings for that, the cat lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:27:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 84,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27302668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SullustanGin/pseuds/SullustanGin
Summary: Everything is exposed on Rishi, and not just the Revanite conspiracy.  To move forward, we sometimes must go back.
Relationships: Theron Shan/Female Smuggler, Theron Shan/Smuggler
Series: Corellian Whiskey and Sullustan Gin [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642009
Comments: 40
Kudos: 24





	1. Ghosts in the Machine

**Author's Note:**

> There will be a chapter literally titled "Dead Dove, Do Not Eat." Tags will be updated appropriately, so please be mindful and take care.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eva visits the parents, considers the soul of a crewmate, and makes landfall on Rishi.

**1 month after Katalla (The Cosmic Deck)**

The longest day of the year arrived. For one person, it arrived.

Many people in the galaxy thought of it as the day where the space between the living and the dead was the thinnest, especially if one didn’t buy into the whole ‘becoming one with the Force’ thing. However, for her, this was the longest day of the year. 

Smuggler Captain Eva Corolastor had dropped her crew off to attend to her personal business, a yearly event. She powered down both C2-N2 and T3-G2. The little droid had asked why and whether there was a problem.

“The Master has things to attend to beyond our concern. She will reactivate us in good time,” C2 reassured him, long-practiced at this ritual that came later in some years than others. It was on time this year. 

How the galaxy viewed this day and how Eva viewed this day -- these things were only coincidental. History dictated her actions, not tradition. 

She traveled to a small corner of Imperial space. She arrived and noted that once again, the stars had not changed. They never did. They were infinite. She was insignificant. 

Eva dropped _Virtue’s Thief_ into complete dark mode: no lights, no engines, nothing non-essential. Whenever she did this, whenever she came to this place, she also disabled the ship’s climate control. She let the temperature of the ship slide downward. It would drop down past the point where her breath left clouds in the air and the cold shot through her skin painfully.

Eva didn’t bundle up. She wanted to feel it. Eventually, when it was all dark and cold enough, Eva watched the stars glide by so slowly so as to be unmoving to the naked eye. Far away, a few streaks shot through the void. Could be comets, could be live fire. The _Thief_ was hidden here. She listened to her earliest personal Captain’s Log entry, seated in her chair. 

The chatter on file was normal at the beginning. The organization of the convoy, the acknowledgement of a new participant in the business – congratulations – but still early days, still learning, but what pride, to be able to pilot a ship all by one’s lonesome. 

The tone changed abruptly. 

_Orion’s Glory here, Imperial fighters at bearing 1 – 1- 8. They’re going to cut us in two._

_Packleader here: this is an abort. I repeat, this is an abort, everyone get—_

The sharp snarl of static always made her flinch. 

_Orion’s Glory here: Packleader is destroyed. You heard him -- more coming, get away if you can._

_Gloriana to Virtue’s Thief: get gone, girl._

_Thief to Gloriana: I can go to hyperspace. Your status?_

_There isn’t time. I love you. You always remember that. Now fly away from here!_

_Dad --_

_Do it._

_Ma, no –_

_I’m proud of you. Always have been. You get my ship out of there. You know the SOP – 24 hours dark. Then we come back here. Now go!_

The signal went weak as the _Thief_ jumped to hyperspace. Through another ship’s comms that had been left open, the _Thief_ ’s logs recorded the following _: Gloriana taking heavy fire. Hadrian is dead already I’m---_

The squeal of the radio had made it hard for her to sleep with open comms for years. 

_Captain’s Log. Oh gods, that’s me._

_I – returned – to the rendezvous point. There is nothing._

_I have no idea what I’m doing._

“And you still don’t,” Eva said to her sixteen-year-old self. 

_I don’t know if I can do this._

Eva switched off her sobbing self, leaving the child in her logs. “If you can live through a promotion at 16, everything else is easy.” Her hand clenched into a fist, but she released it. “No one can stop you.”

She sat in the cold awhile longer. Eva wondered whether she should mention – well, was it significant? On the other hand, it wasn’t as if there were a lot of exciting things going in this pocket of space. 

Eva gazed into the debris field which drifted into a wider swath of space every single year. “Hi, Ma. Dad. I’m ok. I’m still ok. Better than I was.” Her words puffed out of her like an ancient dragon. She didn’t need to smoke when it was this cold in here. 

“I quit drinking. I was so miserable. Which was why I stopped drinking. I’m better now. The bar is open.

“So I know this guy. Well, trying to get to know this guy. He has issues.” A shift in her seat. “I do, too. He doesn’t know ‘em all yet. I think I know his, but the universe likes to play with us. So maybe not.

“So, he’s trying to get to know me too. And not like smugglers typically get to know each other.” A beat. “Not the way you two got to know each other.” The candor would have been permissible even if the dust were alive and well, sitting in the lounge, talking over drinks. 

“He’s in deep cover right now. We nearly blew it, twice. Not my fault either time. Not his fault either. Again, the universe. Some say it’s the Force. We all agree on how likely that is.

“It’s good to see him. But it gets worse every time, in a way.” A pull of the legs up toward her chin, suppressing another shiver.

“He keeps putting off us starting anything. Like really starting anything. Speaking or touching like we actually mean it --- still off limits. There’s always another qualifier, another wall to pull down. For some ungodly reason, I’m letting him play me.” She scoffed. “It’s like he wants to have something, but he’s terrified of actually getting the thing he wants. It’s like a self-aware dog chasing a speeder – once he catches it, what the hell does he do next?”

A pause.

“I don’t know either, which probably isn’t good or helpful.” She shrugged in the darkness. “Not much different than usual though. Planning only goes so far in our world.” 

“I know the steps, in theory. Heavy emphasis on ‘in theory.’” 

“I don’t know whether this is the best idea or the worst idea. No, not the worst. At least I know he isn’t into sentient trafficking.” 

Oh, that came out far more bitter and angry than she intended. “I think he’s a good man. A decent man. That doesn’t mean we’re any good for each other……We’ll see.”

Eva’s breath leaked out of her as she sat in silence. She felt the void, the cold vacuum of space, the eerie silence. This was her parents’ resting place, not some grassy field with a pleasant placard on the closest occupied Pub planet.

Did they – no, Hadrian was already dead. 

Did she feel it in her last seconds? Was this what her mother felt in her last few seconds alive, before her lungs turned inside out or her brain was collapsed in on itself?

Did Athene suffer beyond the sight of her husband dead and the sound of her only surviving child in flight, terrified?

Eva suffered. She made sure she did in the cold and in the lonely darkness. Maybe it was an attempt at empathy, maybe it was atonement for not being on the same ship, maybe it was a form of survivor’s guilt. 

But she only did it once a year. She only let it all hit her here. And despite the void, she never forgot that she had been loved – they had always loved her and always would. 

Eva had a very well-organized and controlled sense of grief. 

When one had no future, the grief reminded her that at the end, she would go home. She would go to them, wherever they were. Eva had escaped Death so many times that, much like the Abbess Mother of the Three Moons, the venom had gone out of their game of cat-and-mouse. He’d walk her home after one final night that went too far, finally claiming his prize after a worthy pursuit.

Grief was a security blanket, an assurance that everything would be right in the end. 

A tiny blip in the medbay computer told her time was up. The end wasn’t today, so she better turn the heat on and warm up. 

“You two be good. Don’t bother the other dust particles. And don’t let parts of you show up in some morgue around here, half-frozen. Had a false alarm last year. It wasn’t you. Didn’t like going to identify people who weren’t you.”

“It was Bagthar and Leta of _Orion’s Glory,_ if you were curious. Tats gave it away.”

Godparents were only useful if they outlived the original parents. 

“Eh, what do you care? You’re dead. I’m still alive.” She let a ghostly smile cross her face. “Yeah. See you next year, same place. I’ll try to be on time.”

Due to no fault of her own, Eva failed. And she failed the following six years as well.

** 

**2 weeks later…**

She had it. She knew she had it. Risha could tell from that unbearable, self-satisfied curl at her lip corners and how her eyes squinted, almost as if she was anticipating a big laugh at someone else’s expense.

Namely, Corso Riggs. Why he still tried to beat his Captain at her second best game, Risha had no idea. It was so _dumb._ Eva Corolastor made enough at the tables to give up smuggling. And she was sitting here with Bowdaar watching them as if it was a high-stakes tournament.

Gods, they were _bored._ Akaavi and Guss were lucky enough to be off-shift and sleeping. The rest of them had to be awake, though it was about time for Eva to kick off and get some sleep so she’d be fresh in 8 hours. 

It had been boring for months. The most adrenaline the crew had was trying to find Eva on Nar Shaddaa, but even then, she’d managed to be hijacked by some well-built swoop racer. 

Some girls had all the luck. 

Bowie grunted quietly in Risha’s direction. “He’s toast.”

“You just figured that out?”

“It was over before it started, but now he’s really lucky she doesn’t let us bet our paychecks. He owes her 16 washers and 12 bolts.”

“Blast! Come on, how many hands is that?” Corso had just figured out he was indeed done. He threw down his hand on the table. Eva perched on her chair, smug. If she were a cat, the tail would be twitching. 

Risha crossed her arms and asked, snidely. “Do they play sabacc differently in your hometown? Maybe the numbers on this deck go a little to high…” 

Corso scoffed, shooting a foul look at Risha. “Hmph. Better ways to spend my time.” He made his way to the front of the ship. 

Yeah, the boredom was getting to all of them. He was pissed over washers and bolts.

Bowdaar silently shrugged and followed him – what did he expect, playing with a professional gambler? 

Eva sat at the table for a moment, as if letting the brief joy of victory dissipate before moving to clean up the nuts, bolts, and the sabacc cards. As Eva rose to her feet, Risha watched her move. The boredom, the lack of news – it all weighted her down. 

Eva didn’t play sabacc often anymore. Risha supposed it was because of the ex. It was never her game anyway – pazaak was – but Eva had always tolerated a few rounds at the sabacc tables whenever his blood ran hot for it.

Risha suddenly had a long-shelved memory flash in her mind, one with a sabacc tournament, too much to drink, maybe a line or two in the ladies room. Eva’s voice, giggly, trembled as they sat above the competitor’s pit, watching her man. “Once we centralize everything at Port Nowhere, we can yank the carpet right out from under the Voidwolf, the Imps, the Pubs, everyone – I’ll conquer Dubrilion, for ya, Rish. We’re gonna be unstoppable.”

“We” was not referring to Eva and crew – no, that was certain as he clinched his purse, and she was rushing down to the floor, heels clattering across the floor, then she was airborn as she leapt up into his arms, and he spun his girl. 

Even Risha had bought that con.

The memories blurred together – that was how nights ended when they were younger. 

She moved so much slower now. 

“Since the game is winding down, can I borrow you for a minute?”

Eva squared the deck away in its protective box in a secret drawer in the table. “Go ahead. What’s wrong with my ship now?” She reached across the table to turn off the table’s gaming lights with one hand while the other rattled the nuts and bolts like dice, jokingly suggesting that the solution was right there. 

“I think someone’s tampered with the navicomputer,” Risha began. She went silent as Eva halted all motion. 

The dark eyes peered over at Risha, slowly straightening up. Risha had noticed how wary Eva had become after two run-ins with Revanites that were unpredicted and most certainly unwanted. She had her own suspicions as to who else she’d see during those brief stints without the crew. 

Risha and the crew had given up almost entirely on the Theron Shan pool. Who the hell knew where he was and whether he was alive? If Risha’s instincts were correct, however their chance encounters had gone, it hadn’t ended with a bedroom resolution, which meant the pool was still open. 

Eva was still drinking though, so she wasn’t as much of a mess as she had been during the early days of the Darok-Arkous conspiracy. That was some small relief. 

“Tampered with it? How?” the Captain asked, perching herself on the edge of the table, arms crossed, head tilted ready to listen.

Risha hated to admit it. “I couldn’t begin to guess. I’m not aware of any devices in law enforcement or on the black market that could manipulate another ship’s nav computer. 

Eva didn’t move for a few moments, lips twisted in a grimace, thinking. “You sure it’s a device and not a hack?”

Rishi shrugged and gestured for Eva to follow her to the cockpit. “I don’t know, and it galls me.” The two women were in motion as they looped through the hallway, Eva dumping the nuts and bolts into a jar as they passed. “Every time I put in a course, it replots it to a planet at the very edge of the Outer Rim: Rishi.”

“Rishi? The pirate hideout?” Corso’s voice called out from the co-pilot’s chair. As Eva, followed by Risha, entered the cockpit, he turned in his chair to continue the conversation. 

“So I’ve heard,” Risha answered. “It’s not that we couldn’t make some credits in that type of setting, but I prefer to have a choice in the matter.” 

Eva’s brow furrowed, lips still contorted. Suddenly, she tore the paneling off both sides of the nav computer console with a series of loud clatters. Risha and Corso exchanged a wide-eyed look. Bowdaar stuck his head into the cockpit, having made a stop in the galley before coming up front. She was in a mood. Eva reached into a pocket and got a small flashlight out. “You fixed the thing?” She knelt down and craned her neck to see into the guts of her ship. 

“Already done. Nothing has physically been done to the computer – no signs of tampering, wire-cutting, or someone being in here that shouldn’t have been. I had Akaavi run an external scan, and nothing popped.” Risha sat leaned back against the wall next to Bowie. “Someone wants us on that planet. Some kind of subtle job offer?”

“Or a trap,” Corso supplied helpfully. “I told you, Cap, that computer’s been on the fritz for awhile now. If there’s a gremlin in there, it’s been in for months now. I told you back at Carrick….” He didn’t finish the sentence. He’d told her at Carrick before Rakata Prime, the last time they’d heard from –

Corso liked this one better than the _last_ one, but he didn’t like _her_ being as she was about him. It wasn’t jealousy, Risha noted. He never liked seeing her miserable; that, combined with the Annual Crew Day of Leave (which everyone knew about but never spoke about), prompted him to acquire some Naboo Rolling Hills. 

Risha had to admit, the sauce was pretty good. 

Eva bowed her head slightly switching off her light, staring into the dark recesses of the nav computer. She was thinking. Something clicked inside her head, and a nasty grin sliced across her face. She stood up, kicking the paneling to the side of the cockpit. “Sounds like more fun than another hand of sabacc, Corso. Let’s find out what Rishi has in store. Bowie, get Akaavi to help you space the nav computer.”

There was a beat of silence.

“What?!” Risha snapped. “It’s one of the few things that we can actually repair ourselves and not spend money on!”

Eva sat herself down in her pilot’s seat. “You just said it’s been compromised by some sort of external force. It’s a security threat. What happens if someone uses the nav computer to slice into vital systems like the artificial gravity or the air scrubber? It’s a liability.” Eva cracked her knuckles and manually plotted a course toward Rishi. “Space it.”

Risha fumed silently. Bowdaar pulled down his tool kit from the supply closet. “You’re mad?”

“Damn straight I am. This is my goddamn ship, and if you want us for a job, you call like a civilized person. So I’m taking away their toys.” Eva still wore that smile, darker and slightly more disturbing than usual. “Get T3 to run a slice analysis on it – find a signal of origin or some fingerprints if possible.” 

“But we’re still going. We’re just not going to inform them that we’re coming,” Bowdaar growled as he knelt down and started to power down the nav computer permanently.

Eva hummed, and Risha realized exactly who Eva suspected of being the slicer responsible. 

The pool just got interesting again. 

“I do jobs on my terms. Let ‘em have some surprises. We’re not at their beck and call, whoever they are.” Increasing amounts of malevolent glee flowed off of Eva as Bowdaar began to take apart the nav console.

Risha saw Corso dart a look over at Eva. “You know who it is. You’re just giving them crap for messing with your ship.”

Eva shook a finger at Corso. “Never let it said I let them push me around. Didn’t you tell me not to do that?”

Something that suspiciously sounded like a laugh erupted from Corso. “That’s my girl.” 

_No, nobody’s girl but her own_ was Risha’s impulsive thought. Then she considered how long this man had had her attention. Almost seven months.

Yeah, pool had to be redesigned _entirely_. 

The Nav Computer received a funeral and was spaced within 6 hours once T3 had had a look at it. 

His findings were privy to the Captain of _Virtue’s Thief._

**

“You ever been to Rishi?” Eva peered out of the front-facing view port as Corso entered orbit around the watery planet. “I think I had a drop-off one night and a pick-up the following morning, so I just stayed up all night enjoying myself. Don’t remember the details.” She wore her heavier smuggler’s coat, with numerous pockets and spots for hold-out weapons – new place, new danger. 

Corso shook his head. “Vidu used to talk about retiring out here. Never was sure if he was serious, but it seemed he was afraid of the place.” 

“He should have been. Not a place for old guys looking to be quiet.” Guss stuck his head into the cockpit. “I was here a couple weeks like fifteen, twenty years. I was a teenager. Non-stop bad trouble the entire time. Rishi moves fast, Captain.” 

“Fast enough to get the Voidhound’s feet nice and wet or fast enough to drown her if she’s not careful?” She pulled up an entry on the Holonet to get some idea of what she was deal with. 

“This is old intel, boss. It might be more orderly now or even crazier – gauge it by how many bodies are outside the cantinas in the morning.”

“Always a good measuring unit,” she mused. As her eyes scanned over the Holonet info, she asked the Wookiee copilot, “You got an opinion?”

Bowdaar looked over at the scanners as they picked up general data from the planet. “They have trees, but scrawny ones, according the computer. I don’t care.”

Eva smiled for a moment but soon became pre-occupied with the database info on Rishi, leaning back against the closet door as Corso brought _Virtue’s Thief_ into a typical orbit pattern and started to hail for landing clearance. Founded by pirates, non-aligned though technically located on Pub turf (which meant nothing if this place was as Guss remembered). Had to import most food, fuel, and tech, but tech was cheap because they could directly barter with exonium. 

Huh. Interesting. She could do something with that. 

And the native Rishi – not the pirates -- were evangelical. They had missionaries all over the place. Eva had seen a few of their monks (?) in space ports across the galaxy. Strange birds, quite literally. 

Eva flipped through the file on the Nova Blades. Not a lot officially, but she could probably hit up Rogun for less-than-official intel. It was a family business, from what Eva could tell; generation after generation of Novas had the same last night, and even though a way had been found out of the Rishi maze ages ago, they never went back to where they came from. Entrenched, then. Eva drummed her fingers along the frame of the datapad thoughtfully. 

Exonium. 

She pulled up a quick Holonet message.

_To: Rogun_

_From: EC_

_Query: Why no hand with the Minotaur?_

Risha, by far, was the best criminal on the crew. However, Eva had her moments of inspiration and instinct, probably inherited from business-minded Athene. Rishi seemed like it had potential, but there was obviously something there, some hornet’s nest Rogun and even Ivory hadn’t wanted to kick. 

Eva had a curious mind and was suddenly desperate to find out. She switched off the data pad and pocketed it in an interior pocket. Then she silently exited the cockpit, looking for Risha. The two of them were the most inconspicuous of the crew; Akaavi being a Mando made her stand out, Bowdaar was literally 10 feet tall, Corso was so hick he was a magnet for trouble, and Guss –

Guss was Guss, and that’s really the only thing that had to be said here.

A thought struck her, and she changed course to the cargo hold, where C2 and T3 were doing a quick inventory of holdover goods from previous ventures – if they could move this excess on Rishi, then the visit was worth it within itself. “C2, can you spare T3 for a second? I need him to be watchdog on something.”

C2 silently tilted at the waist forwards and then back, the equivalent of a nod. She really had to get him better articulation gears, but he never seemed bothered. The Hollis models had been constructed for butler-like duties anyway, so he might have actually been displeased by the reduction in formality. T3 rolled forward, chirping happily.

Eva crouched down to whisper to the droid. “You and I know both know a mutual friend is here. Just have to find him and find out why he didn’t directly ask us. Can you scan the comm channels for him? Check for any odd transmissions, anything that changed since we received that signal and maybe a week or two before. Look for any old familiar hallmarks – you know the ones slicers leave.”

“Affirmative. T3 = miss him too.”

“Itching to get back to SIS?” Eva gave the droid a lopsided grin. Something about that organization inspired fierce loyalty.

“No. This = more exciting. T3 = no deprogramming. T3 = T3.”

Eva blinked twice. Oh. Right. When T3 went back to SIS, they probably wouldn’t like his personality – well, he already had that. Whatever it was that made droids be themselves and not just another unit, T3 had it long before she tweaked to his systems to make him more socialable, blendable in civilian and underworld society. And she gave him back those memories of the wild party he’d attended – now that was a happy droid. All of those adjustments granted him an even more pronounced liberty in his tiny silicon soul. 

If he went back, T3 would have to give it up. 

“T3 = Theron Shan’s friend. T3 = T3’s friend.”

He liked himself. 

Goddammit. Eva never had thought through what would happen when this merry chase was over, when Theron called on her, when everything was perfect in _his_ universe again and he went back to SIS. It wasn’t just a him and her problem, it was a “T3 really doesn’t have the temperament to be a government worker anymore; let’s wipe his memory cells and repurpose him to be a cafeteria droid” problem. 

Eh. She’d stolen government property before. Who gave a flying kriff? “I won’t let that happen, and I’m pretty sure Theron won’t either. If anyone comes looking to deprogram you after this, I can probably convince him to say he ‘lost’ his droid in the midst of the mayhem. We’d probably have to burn out any SIS database links you have –”

“T3 = willing.”

“But not yet. Who knows, you might become the SIS poster boy for droid rights and good and faithful public servants.” 

T3 blew a raspberry at the odds of _that_ happening. 

“Until they come looking to reprogram you, you keep those connections hot – they’ve proven to be pretty useful to us so far, right?”

T3 whirred happily. He had most certainly been a contributing member to recent _Virtue’s Thief_ ventures – profitable ones.

“One more thing – Nova Blades. Find anything SIS has on them, even if the source is suspect or the intel incomplete. The fact they haven’t tripped my radar as Voidhound to this point bugs me. What don’t I know and why don’t I know it?”

“Smuggler = good question. T3 = on it, boss.”

**

As Eva and Risha walked down the gangplank and onto the docks of Raider’s Cove, Eva was immediately struck by the taste of salt in the air. It wasn’t enough to burn the eyes, but it was certainly pungent, if it was possible for salt to be pungent. Eva gave the surrounding area a once-over. 

Hadrian had always taught her to case the locale. Look. Shut your mouth. Run it later. Know what spaces you can fit into – watch your weight, don’t be like me. It was in the middle of this analysis that Eva was startled to hear Risha’s voice. Distant and dreamy, the tone was rarely heard.

The last time Eva had heard it, they’d been on Corellia. She hoped to hell this memory was better than the summer of trees. 

“My father took me to Rishi once when I was a little girl. I was scared of the black sands.” Eva’s eye dropped over the side of the dock, and behold, black sand. “They frightened me. But by the end, it was a good trip.” 

“Why’d they frighten you?” Eva asked, still looking over the edge.

“The sand can dye your skin temporarily. A grey, corpselike color. I was making a sand castle when I realized my hands were --- I’d seen that color before, on people.” There was a flicker behind Risha’s eyes.

Eva often regretted ever helping Nok Drayen, a piece of drekk to the very end. 

As usual, Risha excused her father’s behavior. “But once he saw me staring at my hands, he dunked me in the ocean twice, and it washed away – I was too busy spluterring water to be distressed about it anymore.” 

Eva wanted to say something else, but that would have started an argument in a public place. Skipping that. “Might make for good camo at night, if we have to do our fair share of skulking around here. Let’s hit the town – Raider’s Cove, you said?”

Risha nodded and with a slight squirm of her shoulders, she cast away the memories and moved forward. Eva let her pass in front of her, then followed. 

The thing was, if she hadn’t helped Nok Drayen, she never would have won Risha over. By getting that treasure, she wouldn’t have gotten that privateer gig. She probably wouldn’t have continued the affair with him if that opportunity hadn’t arisen. Then everything cascaded like dominos – if not Drayen, then not Voidhound and everything… everyone that came with it.

Eva supposed the crew was a fair trade off for helping a monster. Several monsters. She wished, however, she could have had it another way. 

She let the thoughts escape her mind as the bustling marketplace of Raider’s Cove came into sight. New place, new adventure.

Eva loved being a smuggler. 


	2. Curiouser and Curiouser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is very strange on Rishi. For a planet founded by a pirate gang, there's little evidence of them. Even more bizarre, nobody wants to touch this planet, for business purposes or otherwise. 
> 
> Risha Drayen is going to solve this mystery. Meanwhile, Eva Corolastor is off to figure out which spy turned her crew into cannibals and where they're hiding.

“Captain, there’s a local security system that relies upon holocams to capture facial identifications,” Akaavi’s voice came through to Eva’s commlink. 

Eva paused at the edge of the docks. “Can we jam it?”

“Likely. It’s not particularly advanced.”

“Do it.”

“Won’t that cause suspicion?”

“If it does, it draws people that we likely want to deal with out of hiding. If it doesn’t, then Rishi is just another intergalactic stop-and-rob just off the hyperlanes; they don’t actually keep the cams running. They just use them as a deterrent.”

“Aye, Captain.” Eva could hear Akaavi’s hands flying over the command board of _Virtue’s Thief_ , activating its signal jammer – nothing too fancy, but good enough to blot out transmissions from the holocams. 

Risha and Eva then moved through the crowd. They let themselves appear to be tourists, easily distracted and attracted to the shiny objects for sale. Eva let herself sink into the quiet mumbling of the crowd, her eyes playing at being consumed with fascination over a pendant at a jewelry booth. She could smell the local street food being prepared a few stalls down – something pan seared, possibly fish-adjacent. Breakfast had been skipped – she’d been too nervy to consider the prospect. The voices in the marketplace were low, quiet, and unhurried. Normal lives, normal concerns, normal days. Nothing strange worth talking about here. 

Eva looked up briefly to make eye contact with Risha, who was remarkably feigning interest over local potted plants. No, she didn’t hear anything unusual either. This was just market day, the front stalls out there for visitors, and the stalls at the back geared toward the residents of Rishi – not just the bird-like natives, but the humanoids as well. There were a few rough characters roaming around, but they seemed to have no interest in women without exterior coat pockets. 

Eva startled as a monkey lizard leapt out from behind the counter and scurried up into the rafters. It peered down at her with glowing yellow eyes, its snout barely visible over a distended stomach. One planet-side pest to watch out for. Eva understood them to be supposedly semi-sentient, but this one didn’t seem to be particularly well-mannered. 

Based on previous planet-side escapades, according to Bowdaar, they were tasty when roasted, though a little stringy. If this one got up in her face, she’d have the Wookiee come shopping with her next time. 

At the end of the long aisle of market stalls, Eva and Risha reconvened. “Nothing suspicious here among the humanoids. The native Rishii keeps look at us, however,” Risha murmured, bowing her head slightly in toward Eva.

Eva didn’t look around. “What’s he doing?”

“Checks his merch, looks at you, goes back to his merch, then double-checks on you. Seems flustered. Pattern repeats. He doesn’t want you anywhere near him.”

“He notice you?”

“No. I didn’t trip his radar when I came right up to his table. He’s preoccupied with _you_.” Risha leaned slightly to look down at some of the trinkets laid out on a nearby table, letting their conversation become less formal, less intense.

“Someone gave him my face.” Eva’s lips barely moved as she assessed the situation. “They didn’t know who I’d be on the ground with – could have been Guss for underhanded dealings, could have been Bowie or Corso for a bit of muscle. Could have been anyone on crew. But they knew _I’d_ be running my own intel.”

“And that’s why what you do is stupid. You let the stooges check things out; let them take the risks while you observe from the safety of the ship,” Risha hissed back toward her. 

“I take risks I wouldn’t want anyone else to take. That’s a good Captain.”

“That’s a bad commander and boss.” ‘Boss’ here was meant in the ‘crimelord’ sense -- not something to say out loud in a marketplace. 

“I’m just a smuggler. Everything else is a massive misunderstanding.” 

Risha scoffed at this. Eva knew Risha always felt they could be doing something more daring, more lucrative, and more high-profile than what they were. She felt like Eva wasn’t living up to her full potential. 

Given how Nok Drayen and a few other famous criminals went down, Eva wasn’t exactly ambitious. Too much of that got people spaced or poisoned, especially if they were highly visible. Eva’s eyes fluttered as the thought shot through her head. Rishi could be taken by being invisible, if the product was right and if the current proprietors of Rishi were unconnected enough….

Eva shelved the thoughts abruptly. “Think he’d pull a blaster on us?” she asked Risha.

Risha gave her a withering look. “He’s trembling and you haven’t even looked at him directly yet. He’s terrified.” 

“Let’s go make friends,” Eva cheerily replied and gave Risha’s shoulder a squeeze as she turned around headed straight for the Rishii native’s table.

Risha made some exasperated noise and cursed at Eva’s back. The Captain couldn’t help but grin. 

The Rishii had moved away from his table in order to enter the arrival of two new crates of goods into his datapad. Eva swooped in, appearing suddenly in front of him. “Gooood morning,” Eva drawled as she sidled up next to the crates.

The feathers on the Rishii’s head vibrated silently for a few moments before their owner managed to croak out, “G-g-good morning. I am Qaraah, h-h-happy to serve any visitor of Rishi…” The unfortunate soul blinked once, then twice, before his brain managed to reboot and more words came out of his mouth. “Oh…. Uhhhh…. You’re from the Red Hulls, aren’t you?”

The first rule of improv is always to say yes to everything. Your partner will tell you everything you need to know to play the scene. Eva silently nodded, putting her hands on her hips and keeping her faced guarded and neutral.

Qaraah continued on, nervously. “Welcome to Raider’s Cove!” He gestured to the world around him before rambling on. “Nothing but fellow pirates here – you and your crew don’t have to kill or maim or eat anyone, right?”

Eva actively stopped herself from bursting out laughing. This was too much. She had to find out which dumbass dreamed this up. She had her suspicions, but that Sith had her own surprises. She rallied up her finest con bravado and went for it. “Kill or maim? Eating people….. what _are_ you talking about?” she leaned in toward her source, hands open in askance. 

Qarrah immediately reared back, as if finding a coiled, deadly snake inside one of his crates. “It—it’s what you do. Everyone knows!” The birdman’s eyes darted nervously around the marketplace, assuring himself that _this_ wouldn’t happen to _him_ in _broad daylight_. “I’m sure those people your crew ate on Taloraan had it coming.”

Eva arched a single brow, and she heard Risha sigh beside her. Qaraah flailed slightly in response to the subtle gesture. “But we’re all friends here, right? No need for any massacres or cannibalism here!” His voice hitched up a half-octave on the last two words.

Eva could feel eyes on her. Attention had been drawn, and now people were seeing her for the first time – no longer a generic woman in a crowd but someone who had been gossiped about and remarked upon by unknown sources. Her instinct told her to play it. “Forgive the disguises, but it seems someone already knew we were coming. What little bird told you that?” 

Qaaraah froze where he stood. It was like watching a small animal go motionless, hoping the predator hadn’t seen it.

“I really want to know.” Eva spoke clearly and firmly. At that opportune moment, her stomach growled. She could feel the annoyance radiating off Risha. 

Qaarah collapsed like a house of cards. “Gorro. He’s the one who said you were coming. He won’t shut up about it. He said he really wants to take you on – I’m sure he’s just bluffing though,” he hastily added.

Eva curled her lip upward slightly. “Where can I find this ‘Gorro’ person?”

Qaaraah seemed all too eager to get rid of her and direct to some other target of interest. “The cantina. Probably. He hangs out there a lot.”

Eva pinned the bird with her cold gaze. “Which cantina? This is Rishi, after all.”

“Blaster’s Path!” Qaaraah blurted out nervously. 

Eva dropped her eyes. Swift fingers curled down into a hidden wrist pocket on the smuggler’s coat. “Thank you,” she said quietly, flipping a coin onto the nearby crate. It wasn’t local currency, but it would still be worth something.

Qarrah watched as the coin spun gracefully in place on the crate, and by the time he looked up again, Eva had long crept away and disappeared into the crowd with her companion.

**

“I’m going to strangle them,” Risha muttered around a disposable spork. They’d given in to hunger and taken on some of the local street food – some sort of bacalhau, with a starchy root vegetable and a dried fish. “Cannibal pirates. Who the hell thought of that?”

Eva shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. There’s the cover, we play it to the hilt.” Eva thoughtfully scrapped a stray chunk of something off the back of her spork with her teeth, then spoke. “They’re going to get more than what they asked for.”

Risha’s shoulders sagged, and she carefully turned to her on their perch – an abandoned building’s balcony that gave them a decent view of the marketplace. “Do we really have to?” 

“I don’t know. Think Voidfleet can make money here?” Eva paused to look at her, swinging her legs off the side of the balcony like a small child. 

“On what?”

“You see anything to do around here other than shop and drink? Any culture or museums or enriching activities?”

Light sparked in Risha’s eyes. “Now you’re thinking like a crimelord. Remote locations without entertainment are ideal for spice-running – nothing to do but get wasted. What else?”

“They got exonium. They trade it for foodstuff – I assume anything not from the ocean – and tech. Exonium itself is fuel, but they don’t have processing here, so they have to give it up for ship fuel – I assume standard, not like isotope-5 stuff. ”

“Just as well, since you blew that market to smithereens,” Risha sneered at her.

“Yeah, you didn’t exactly cry a river after I did it. We made a mint off the stock exchange.” 

Eva shoveled more of the bacalhau into her mouth as Risha let a rare, happy smile cross her face. “That was a good night. Neat, clean, and no danger, but lots of credits.”

“Only had to get shot through my shoulder for the inspiration.” 

Risha shook her spork at her. “Don’t tempt me or I’ll shoot you on a regular basis in the future to keep the creative juices flowing.” 

“That wasn’t creative juice. That was my own blood and kolto. It was like slicing into an undercooked Batuu chicken.” Eva feigned annoyance before both women descended into quiet laughter.

Risha spoke again, eventually. “Give me a day to run numbers on it. I’ll see where their exonium is going and whether we can redirect… or maybe we need to expand into the fossil fuel industry. Diversify Port Nowhere’s portfolio.” She paused for a moment. “This might be a lot more fun than those spies ever dreamed of.”

“Or had nightmares about,” Eva quipped before dropping the remains of her brunch into the trash dumpster one story below them.

**

Unsurprisingly, Blaster’s Path, the cantina, was dimly lit. The lighting was even worse in the basement, where the bouncer had directed the pair of women when they said they were looking for someone. “Downstairs mops up easier. Just got a nice carpet up top – really ties the room together.”

Thus, it was concluded that Guss’s intel remained accurate and relevant to their current undertakings. Always count the body stack at dawn. 

Eva and Risha drifted down the stairs slowly, taking their time. This was not the best-built cantina; too many blind spots, too many attacks of opportunity. It had been settled by pirates, so perhaps it was a series of deliberate design flaws. Eva had no intent of getting shot up here, however; she wore her beskar vest under her coat, as usual. Risha took her own precautions. 

As they slunk toward the bar, Eva heard fragments of conversation blasting across the basement room, emanating from the direction of one pink-toned Rodian. Eva couldn’t tell his exact shade – the lighting was truly drekk. “It’s the truth! They don’t just kill the crews they rob, they cook them and eat them.”

Eva gave Risha a look – they’d found their sentient. Silently, the pair nonchalantly pulled up stools at the bar. Eva caught the bartender’s eye and jerked her head in the Rodian’s direction then held up two fingers. Two of whatever he was having.

The bartender wen to work on the drinks as the Rodian ignored their presence and continued to run his mouth. “When I kill people, I have the decency to leave their corpses where they fall.” He slammed down the rest of his drink as the bartender placed two more of the same in front of Risha and Eva. Eva looked down her nose at the small cup before her. Oh, Green Galaxies. They were drinks that looked pretty, but had no bite to them, unless one was a lightweight. “These Red Hulls give us all a bad name,” Gorro finished with a dramatic flourish. 

Eva downed her drink in a single go before getting down to business. She spun her chair to face the chatterbox. “You must be Gorro, the man of many words about people he doesn’t know.” She let her cup clink down hard on the bar’s surface.

The Rodian froze in his seat. The bartender looked flat out annoyed at the Rodian. “Easy, Gorro, I just cleaned up after your last brawl. Don’t do this to me again.”

Gorro stood to face Eva, hands open and held away from his body slightly. He backed away from the bar. Eva knew she was the faster draw and sat still in her seat, only rotating the stool to keep herself square to Gorro. She immediately noticed that most of the bar’s patrons were now watching them, some of them failing in behind Gorro. All the same, the fear was evident in Gorro’s pupil-less eyes. His voice was steady, somehow. “Are you kidding? I’ve killed traders, soldiers, thieves, even beasts. But never a cannibal. This will be fun.” 

Eva remained still, hands on her thighs, no motion toward any holster. “It doesn’t have to be. I just want some information. You give it, I’m gone. Who told you that I’m the captain of the Red Hulls?”

Gorro stared at her, as if her request did not compute. “Everyone’s heard of you. Whole planet. Even the droids. And once I’ve killed you, everyone will hear about me.”

Suddenly, Risha stood up and unshouldered her blaster rifle in a swift, smooth movement. Eva remained motionless as the people behind Gorro dispersed out and away from him. As always, Risha was good crowd control. 

Eva kept her focus on the Rodian; Risha could handle the rest. “Gorro, friend, I heard that all pirates are welcome here on Rishi,” Eva delivered smoothly, hands still idle on her legs. “But you aren’t exactly making me feel welcome, what with the mob behind you and the blaster you’re just itching to get your little suction cups on.”

There was a brief second where all was still and silent in the cantina. Then Gorro’s hand went to his blaster.

The sizzle of flesh and the smell of burning filled the air in a split second.

It was over before it even started. He may have drawn first, but she had effortlessly drawn first blood, which had cauterized even before he hit the ground, a hole in his gut. Eva’s eyes snapped upward toward the rest of the patrons in the bar. Risha’s blaster rifle did its job, keeping the crowd at bay. Risha gave their audience a cold glare, daring them to try something. Anything.

Eva grunted in her general direct. “Upstairs. All of you,” Risha barked at them, angling herself to herd them upstairs without leaving the safety of the far wall that stretched alongside the bar. 

Like frightened sheep, they started to file toward the stairs.

Eva knelt down before her fallen foe and pressed the burning heat of the barrel into his arm. “Who gave you my face?” she hissed as he yelped.

Gorro regained his composure long enough to spit at her, and he hit her cheek. A gasp went up from one of the onlookers, strangled in the throat so the Red Hulls’ captain wouldn’t look her way.

Eva did not respond to this provocation. She glared, imperious. “You can answer me, or I can humiliate you. You can live, or you can lie there like the small-time punk you are.”

One of Gorro’s limbs made a sudden move. Eva shot blindly at the other arm. He must have had another pistol or a knife, somewhere on him. His scream indicated her aim and knowledge of anatomy were true. 

Unfazed, Eva rose up. “I don’t play with my food before I eat it. It’s rude.” She wiped the slime from her face. “Once you’re done escorting our guests, I’m ready to go,” she said loudly to Risha, eyes never leaving Gorro. 

From where he lay, likely dying, Gorro yelled at her in impotent fury. “Finish it, then. My friends will come after you --!”

Her lip curled up slightly, as if torn among disgust, humor, and pity. “Your friends are being marched upstairs, and here you are now, on the floor.” She raised the blaster still clutched in her hand. “You want me to finish it?” 

Gorro seethed on the floor as Eva turned slowly in a circle, making eye contact with the bar’s denizens as they filed up the stairs, hurried along by Risha’s rifle. “Any takers? Anyone coming after me to avenge Gorro the Brave, Gorro the Wordy on the floor here?” 

All was silent. As she turned, Eva caught sight of the bartender, cowering behind the bar, eyes wide with fear. Eva gave her a quiet, slight nod. The bartender blinked a few times, unsure as to how to interpret the gesture. Eva held up her free hand – it would be fine. Eva gave a look to Risha. She simply redirected Eva’s attention back toward the Rodian on the floor. Gorro stood there, rolling in pain of a few different sorts. Nobody was coming to help him to fight.

That stung.

“You done here, Gorro? Or do you want me to help you out?” 

A rather foul obscenity erupted from him, and Eva finished him. One shot to the forehead, right on the narrow patch of skin between the two large eyes. Whispers began to run up and down the human chain that ascended the stairs. “The Red Hulls!” “I didn’t even see her reach for her blaster.” “Wait til the Novas get a load of this.”

Risha forced them up the stairs until she could activate the security gate at the bottom of the steps; the proprietors of the bar had no concept of lighting but definitely crowd control. 

Eva watched the gate hum to life, radiant green light blocking access to the basement. She stepped over Gorro and plonked herself back on her bar stool. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll like some information,” she called over the bar.

Slowly, the bartender rose to her full height and then leaned over to catch a look at Gorro. “Well, at least you didn’t make much of a mess. Cheap blasters leave bloody, gaping wounds – so much to clean up.” 

“Got a name?” Eva asked, pulling out a small cache of credits to pay for her and Risha’s drinks and Gorro’s. She piled the used credits neatly and pushed them toward the bartender. Eva paused, pointedly, so that the woman on the other side of the bar saw what she still had in hand. Then she placed the pile next to her on the bar and waited. “I could go for a Sullustan gin and tonic with an information sidecar.” 

The bartender peered over Eva’s shoulder at Risha, who sat down next to her captain at the bar. Risha coolly answered the unasked question. “Sonic Servodriver, neat.”

The bartender nodded and set to work on the drinks. “You can call me Kareena. Then I’ll know it’s you looking for me.” She darted a nervous glance at them. 

Eva slide a credit over to her side of the bar, in exchange for her name. “I’m looking for information, not a second course for lunch,” Eva reassured her, unable to resist the urge to tease.

Kareena looked up from her work momentarily to look at the dead Rodian, then she looked back over at Eva, sidewise. “You….uh….you’re not gonna eat him, are you? That’s the last thing I need people hearing about my place.”

“Not the shootouts?” Risha asked

“That’s actually part of the allure here on Rishi. Well?”

Eva smirked. “Only during raids. That’s our code. Also, Rodians. Like eating rabbits – not enough fat to taste good.” Eva could see Risha rolling her eyes just at the edge of her peripheral vision. 

Kareena stared. “That’s …. Good to hear…”

Eva pulled a few credits out of her pile and shuffled them one-handed. As Kareena gave Risha her Sonic Servodrive and Eva her Sullustan gin and tonic, Eva placed the credits in Kareena’s growing pile. Eva palmed another few credits as she asked, “You know who told Gorro about me?”

Kareena leaned back against a closed fridge unit and crossed her arms. “Kai Zykken. He’s an idiot that runs one of the crews here in town. I don’t let Zykken or his goons into my place.”

“What kind of Sithspit is he, if you let Gorro in?” Eva took a sip of her drink.

Kareena shrugged. “Gorro was a public nuisance, but relatively harmless. Nobody’s gonna miss him except his brother. Zykken? He does foolish things that make people want to kill him on the regular. Like a loth cat, he must have nine lives or something.” Kareena shook her head, then continued. “Gorro had just come from one of Zykken’s sabacc games when he started talking you up within the last week or so. Had to be him.”

“Sabacc is the source of all troubles on this job,” grumbled Risha.

Eva only winced slightly and drained her glass. Kareena gestured toward the gin bottle and Eva shook her head. She did, however, grab the last of the credits off her pile. 

Kareena waved them off. “You’ll have to find them out in town somewhere. I don’t go looking for them, nor do I want to know where they crawl out from at night. And watch out for Gorro’s brother --- he’s a handful.”

Eva gave her a half grin as Risha finished up her Servodriver. Eva added the remaining credits to Kareena’s pile and rose to her feet. “Pleasure doing business with you. One last thing – got an exit down here?”

“Through the back. Would it be too much to ask---?”

“We try to do our own wetwork when possible,” Risha airily cut her off as she and Eva readied to dispose of Gorro’s body in the nearest alleyway.

**

Eva stared at her comm unit as if it had grown three heads. “Come again?” She leaned back against the wall of the alley behind the Blaster’s Path. 

“The guy’s listed in the Holocall book, Cap. It’s a number for one of the local warehouses,” Corso dutifully repeated. 

Eva turned to Risha and repeated to her, blankly, “He’s listed in the Holocall book.”

“Kareena did say he was an idiot. And that’s probably something one of our idiots would do,” Risha answered, wiping her gloves off on the wall.

“Nah, always go unlisted. Too many holo-marketers,” Eva heard Guss grumble through the comm link. 

“You learned the hard way?” Akaavi asked, and the mumbling from the Mon Cal suggested an affirmative answer. 

Eva sighed. “Ok, this warehouse – what’s he and his crew running?” 

Eva heard someone sit down in the co-pilot’s chair. “Based on the information I’ve pulled up, Zykken is apparently a leader of the Corellian Run Scoundrels,” Akaavi replied.

Both Risha and Eva turned to each other in unison and made faces. “Must go through the Death Wind Corridor. But why call yourself the Corellian Run Scoundrels if you aren’t actually on the Run itself?” Risha asked.

“Branding?” Eva shrugged. “What’s he run, Akaavi?”

A thoughtful ‘hmm’ came over the comm. “Random items. Nothing consistent. Weapons, no particular style. Clothing, no particular style. Corellian whiskey –”

“What the kriff is the point of that? It’s not rare and Rishi doesn’t have any dry laws that we’ve seen…” Eva kicked at a random can in the alley, sending it clattering down toward the far end. “What’s missing here?”

Risha crossed her arms and frowned. “Nova Blades. They’re the big game here, but we haven’t see any of it yet. We’ve seen small-time, but nothing large enough on the food chain to suggest they run the planet.”

“But they do,” countered Eva. “Unless _that’s_ a seriously good P.R. team.” 

Risha shook her head. “Something doesn’t add up, and I don’t like it. You’re calling Rogun when you get back to the ship – get the old man to tell you a few stories.”

“What would Rogun know?” Eva asked. She’d already sent that inquiry off to Port Nowhere, but she hadn’t received a response yet. Time to pick the other brains in this operation.

“Why aren’t we doing business on a legally lax Pub planet? And why is the Pub turning a blind eye? And why did Rogun and Ivory? It’d be like missing out on Voss for centuries,” explained Risha, slightly snotty.

Akaavi chimed in. “There’s exceedingly little on Holonet about Rishi, despite it being not far off the Mid-Rim and having been in the Republic for a number of years. This is suspicious. Something lies beneath.”

Yeah, Eva had reached that conclusion a few hours ago. But what was it?

“Let’s shelve this until we can find some more intel,” Eva said as she started to move toward the mouth of the alley. “Corso, send over the coords for that warehouse –”

“And send over Bowdaar. I’m done. I need to figure this out.” Risha’s patience had run out for the day. Eva could see it in her body language.

“Curiosity eating at you?” Eva tilted her head slightly to look at Risha as they exited the alley and started to make their way toward the warehouse at the end of the docks. 

Risha pursed her lips. “I don’t like business dealings that don’t have immediate, rational explanations. It’s why I hate taking jobs blind and why I hate your do-gooder tendencies: I don’t see the business in front of me, so why are we doing it? In this case, _where_ are the Novas even doing it, considering they supposedly run this planet?” Risha craned her neck, looking both ways before the pair stepped out of the alley. “Besides, I’ve met my idiot quota for the day. Bowdaar should have some fun playing up the whole ‘eats people’ thing.”

“Say hi to our idiots for me,” Eva cheerily fade her farewell, and the two women parted in different directions. 

If there was anyone who could unravel the mystery of the Rishi pirates, it was Risha Drayen. Eva had little doubt of that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a high-action chapter, but I think it's necessary to build up the layers of mystery and smuggling intrigue I plan on augmenting the story with. Hope you enjoy!


	3. Seaside Property with an Ocean View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eva picks up on the trail of the two spies, at the same that her business brain clicks into action as to what to do with a planet like Rishi.
> 
> Ten days later, with still no sign from the smuggler ship, Theron Shan considers going it alone. Again. As usual.

Bowdaar thumped Eva soundly on the head when he finally met her at the rendezvous point – a local newsstand that strangely stocked the latest swoop racing Holo-files. “‘Say hi to our idiots for me’, little girl?” 

Eva just grinned at him as she replaced the Holo-file on the rack. The manager of the stand scowled at her as she and Bowdaar walked off. “Let’s keep on track and scare some other idiot. Can you try to look frightening?”

Bowdaar huffed at her and straightened up to his full height of over 3 meters then put on his happy face, which had an awful lot of teeth.

The door to the warehouse was wide open, and people milled about, unaware of Eva’s presence. The Wookiee didn’t even seem to catch their eyes. Eva and Bowie exchanged a look. “Not very observant,” he remarked.

“Sounds like the Red Hulls only started to be promoted this past week. Fits with when the nav computer went on the fritz.” Eva frowned. Something was not fitting together correctly. Gorro said everyone knew. Yet, so far, only Qarrah and he had reacted to them as if they were intruders, the big bad Red Hulls. Eva and Risha had walked through the marketplace and the Blaster’s Path without any trouble – until they were identified by those two specific people.

One of them happened to have a market stall at a convenient spot that would enable him to see any new arrivals to Rishi. But nobody else – nobody to stop them or block them. 

Eva knew something was up. Was it the spies or something more sinister? Hopefully Risha could start cracking that. 

Eva scanned the top floor of the warehouse, where the offices tended to be. Bowdaar pointed with a single claw. “Up there. Privacy screen.”

Eva nodded. “Think he’ll give us too much trouble?”

Bowdaar grunted. “You’re the one with the beskar vest; what do you care?” 

Eva elbowed him and made a sour face. “Seriously, now.”

Bowdaar was swift to grab her elbow, which was absolutely tiny in his hand. “Akaavi gave me a blaster – I don’t need to be up close and personal. Let’s head upstairs. You can draw faster than he can.” 

“That skill already got a workout today. Can you tell if anyone is up there?”

Bowdaar looked down at her. “I’m a Wookiee, not a bassa hound; I can’t smell them from here.” He paused for a moment. “What’s got you nervous?”

Eva gestured abstractly back toward the ship. “Trails of breadcrumbs. Spies. Pirates that own planets but don’t act like it. Something isn’t right here, Bowie.” She peered up at him. “Ever feel like you were about to walk into a room as a bomb was going off?”

“With you? Always. Let’s go, little girl.” Bowdaar strode toward the staircase that would take them to the upper floor, and Eva had to break into a jog so her shorter legs could keep up with her long-limbed companion.

Bowdaar moved with the confidence of a warrior that was experienced, but not so old that battle was boring or something reluctantly encountered. He was impressive – always had been, even at first sight when he was poisoned and ill on Nar Shaddaa. Eva followed him up the stairs, her blaster already out to cover his back. She found herself peering around his large form as the floor of the upper office came into sight. 

Eva was always surprised at how quiet Bowdaar was when he moved. Perhaps it was a life of living in fear; perhaps it was a trait all Wookiees had – she didn’t know many well enough to know for sure. The only time she heard Bowie was when the floor plates bowed under his weight with a creak; if the floor at a given location was in good condition, he was as stealthy as she was. 

Having Bowie use a stealth generator never got old, however.

Either way, he rose to the top of the staircase silently and smoothly, as if rising on an escalator. His feet padded across the floor, backing himself into the nearest corner, craning his head around the cabinets and dividers to determine where their quarry was. A small, low growl indicated he’d sighted them.

Eva moved in front of him, the smaller target and the better shot. She crept along the floor, one slow steady foot in front of the other.

As she emerged into an open space in the upper office, a Bith immediately noticed her. He only tilted his head and paused, arms instinctively raised above his head. Apparently, he was familiar with the risks of doing business on Rishi with this character. His shoulders raised and lowered, seemingly in a silent sigh, before he jerked his head in the direction of a human who was completely oblivious, bopping around to a song that blasted through earpods, staring at some trashy holo movie on the screen in front of him. His back was to them, and he showed no signs of intellect.

Eva silently mouthed to the Bith “Kai Zykken?”

He nodded.

She mouthed again, “Really?”

The Bith nodded, not exactly thrilled. 

Eva gestured with her blaster for him to move off to the side. The Bith did so.

Eva watched as Zykken continued to prance around, still not aware of their presence. “Should we set a timer?” she murmured back at Bowie. 

“I want to bet on which part of his biology fails when he does see you.” She could hear the Wookiee equivalent of a smirk in that response. Eva gave her head a shake and then scoffed before moving closer to Zykken. 

Still oblivious.

She drew within six feet.

Nope.

Three feet.

Not even a turn.

Arm’s reach.

It was a miracle he wasn’t already dead. What an idiot.

Eva’s swift nimble figures reached and yanked one of the earpods out of his head. “Kai Zykken?” she barked right in his ear.

After jolting and going completely white, his first instinct was to slam the screen in front of him down, like a kid caught watching dirty holos (which he was). There was a brief flitter of recognition that she was kinda hot, and a goofy look came over his face. Then he realized she had a blaster, and just like the Bith, his hands immediately reached for the ceiling. Any sign of lust or humor was quickly gone. 

“They have way too much practice doing that,” Bowdaar drily observed from the back of the room, his blaster trained on the Bith.

The man assumed to be Kai Zykken managed to stutter out a few weak words. “Uh….I no speak basic. Nee wonna wonga?”

Eva stared at him, humorless, and she could feel Bowie move up behind her, probably with his happy face on. 

The Bith, chimed in from the side him. “I don’t think it’s working, boss.”

“And neither did Gorro, apparently!” Zykken tried to twist around to look at the Bith, but the threatening creak of his cheap fake leather jacket limited his movement. “This is not my day…” he mumbled as he faced square to Eva. He tried to plaster on the face of a charmer, but the end result was more along the lines of constipated terror. “Hello! Yes, I am indeed Kai Zykken. Though here are probably lots of people with that name. Just saying.”

Eva really couldn’t resist this. Neither could the Voidhound. She deliberately paused and closed her eyes, letting the cold facade wash over her. “You know why I’ve come. Nobody messes with the Red Hulls.” Her voice dropped half an octave, and the cold look she gave Zykken caused his pallor to slide several shades toward pale, despite the tan he’d picked up on Rishi. 

The nervous chatter picked up – no sign of guile or efforts at activating an emergency signal or protocol. “Of course! A debt’s a debt, and my word is my vow…"

The Bith moved his head to attract Eva’s attention for moment and shook it vigorously. This poor guy. 

True to the Bith’s anticipation, Zykken plowed onward, “You don’t really need those credits now, do you? As in ‘now’, now?”

Eva darted a cautious glance over at Bowdaar; she could see the subtle twitch of his nose; he wasn’t a bassa hound, but he could pick up newcomers in the immediate area. With her blaster, Eva gestured, and Zykken’s eyes bounced along with it. “I want what I’m owed, Zykken. I’m not leaving without my credits.”

“See, the problem with me paying you is that I can’t.” He was almost too cheery about that, and Eva calmly adjusted her blaster’s angle to arc a shot right through his forehead. Zykken had just enough awareness to notice. “Tell you what – instead of credits, how about I tell you who warned me that you were coming?”

Well, that was something. But still, the role of the pirate – she stepped forward to press the cool barrel of the blaster into his forehead. “I still want my money,” the Voidhound hissed. Zykken went rigid with fear. “...and but this does buy you time…” The blaster was taken away and aimed toward the ceiling. Not looking away from Zykken’s figure, which now slouched in relief, she calmly flipped on the ‘broadcast translation’ option on her wrist band. _She_ didn’t need to have Bowie translated, but their guests did. “How much you think, Bowie?” 

“How many working limbs do you want me to leave him with?” The Shyriiwook was translated into Basic, and Eva nearly burst into laughter, as she realized that Bowdaar had somehow programmed the emulator to mimic Darth Marr’s voice to convey his message.

T3 must have had something to do with this. The _Thief_ didn’t have enough voice samples of Marr to make it sound _that_ good. 

Zykken helplessly wheezed. “That’s gotta be worth something! Just give me enough time – whatever time you need to go to whoever sold you out… Lemme stay in one piece?” He seemed torn between standing stock-still or going down on his knees to beg for his life. 

Eva cast a look around the warehouse. Hmm. Idea. “Nice place,” she said as an abrupt change of topic. “Seaside property, ocean view.” 

Bowdaar began puff. Zykken wasn’t familiar with Wookiees, as he shrank back against his desk in fear; he didn’t realize that Bowie was laughing. 

The Bith cleared his throat and rolled a shoulder; he probably did have a repetitive stress injury from sticking his hands up far too often. “This is mostly a small ante business, but if you need a warehouse local, this one is well-placed.”

Eva cast a look around. “I can see that. You’re awful helpful.” She arched an eyebrow and let her glare burn into the lithe figure. 

“I like living. Business with the Scoundrels – at least with Kai at the helm – acts against my interests.” 

Eva saw the indignant expression on Zykken’s face, but she decided to play out the hand. “How’d he end up the leader anyway?

The Bith replied, “The other lieutenants killed the big boss and then each other. He got back late with a lady friend—”

“Who totally got freaked out by the bodies,” Zykken added.

“Smart girl – it wouldn’t have worked out between you two anyway.” The Voidhound’s intensity swung back over to focus on Zykken. “I think the warehouse would be nice in lieu of credits. You can take your loyal staff with you.” The Bith made a strangled noise, but Eva retained her laser-like focus on Zykken, who squirmed. “And of course, the identity of the person who informed you about us.” 

Zykken nodded slowly. “Uhm. Yeah. I wasn’t attached to this place anyway. It’s… the identity of the person came through a message, so I saved it on my datapad.” Then Zykken’s color dropped another shade toward the stark white side of the spectrum.

The Bith, observant, dryly offered, “The one you always lose?” Zykken nodded hastily. The Bith slowly lowered his hands, eyes fixed on Bowie. He carefully reached behind him to a desk and then drew out a datapad. He held it out to Eva without any further ado. “He doesn’t know how it works beyond surfing the holonet, getting messages, and watching pornography. I keep any actual business transactions on _my_ datapad.”

Eva gave the proffered datapad a look of disdain.

“I sanitize it before I ever touch it,” he clarified.

Eva nodded. “Thanks.” She took the datapad and easily latched her omnitool onto it in order to hack its contents. “You got a name?”

The Bith gave Bowdaar and his blaster another look. “Tomoto.”

“You want a different gig, you let the Red Hulls know.” Eva cast a look over at a quivering Zykken. “Less stress, probably better pay—”

“You don’t have to sell me. I quit.” Tomoto dropped his hands. “And I can square things here for you.”

“Bro—” Zykken started, but then his mouth snapped shut as Bowdaar transferred his attention over to him.

“Why weren’t you in charge of something? You seem clever.” Eva roughly asked him as the omnitool started to shred through virus codes that had ended up on the datapad due to Zykken’s viewing habits.

“Again, life is very attractive to me. Do the job, don’t say much, stay out of any direct lines of fire,” Tomoto folded his hands in front of him, patiently. “I don’t think Kai will give you problems if you let him go.”

“Not a single one, nope, nope, nope,” Zykken cut in immediately, vigorously shaking his head. 

“I can arrange for him to leave the planet with any loyalists?” Tomoto offered cautiously.

Eva let her skepticism play across her face as her mental internal gears whirred and raced. Risha had to get in on this – and Akaavi needed to do a securities check. “You take care of Kai here, then. I’ll take your chain code for a little background check – it checks out, you send me over the codes of a few associates looking for work, we’ll take it from there, nice and easy.” 

Tomoto nodded, reserved.

“Log into your datapad – it’s linked up to the main system here?” 

Tomoto nodded again, hands reaching for his datapad in a holster he kept at his hip.

Eva sent out a hail to the _Thief_ as Tomoto logged in. “Ship to Captain, I read you.”

“Corso, if I give you the Holonet address of a wireless datapad that is linked up to a larger network, can you hack that for me and do a little virus clean up along with some security patches – grab some critical data here and there so Risha has something to do this weekend?” Eva blindly held out Zykken’s datapad back toward Bowdaar, and then took Tomoto’s datapad with her free hand.

“Can do that, faster than light. Ready when you are.” 

As the datapad bleeped away as Corso dismantled its defenses, Eva regarded Tomoto and Kai Zykken, eyes flat. She kept her channel to the ship open. “You have 10 hours to get him off the planet. You have 20 hours – one rotation – to flush out any uncooperative parties and secure this location before my securities expert comes in and does things her way. She’s a Mandalorian.”

Eva didn’t have to say anything else after that. Tomoto nodded and grabbed Zykken by the shoulder. As they disappeared down the staircase at the other end of the elevated office space, Eva sent out another quick hail to _Virtue’s Thief._

“Akaavi here. You worked fast.”

“Can you track them on the holocams, make sure they’re doing what I told them?”

“Affirmative.” She paused as Eva heard a swift series of clicks and buttons being pushed. “By the way, I erred in my initial assessment of the local security holos. There are actual _two_ networks. One is the Cove’s own – I don’t think anyone is actually watching the data that streams through. The other is, for the lack of better description, parasitic, leeching off the town’s streams and porting them to an unknown location.”

Eva frowned. “You jamming that?”

“Not as easily. The port only happens when certain people set off the facial identity scanners of the local town. The Rishii Risha mentioned is one. Looking back on ported signals, the Rodian was another. The holocams tried to feed the parasitic stream when you appeared on camera, but I jammed that. Currently, I’m jamming the data that is trying to be ported now because Zykken is out in the street.”

“Good, don’t let them know he’s being shipped off-planet.” Eva tapped the side of Tomoto’s datapad thoughtfully for a second. “Can you get T3 to look at the stream for slicer hallmarks?” Every slicer had his or her way about doing business, certain quirks left behind due to speed and functionality within the slicing operation.

Akaavi replied, voice crackling over the comm link, “Already on it. There are many misdirects. It would be helpful is there were other streams of data to triangulate with.” 

Eva turned look at Bowdaar, who was quickly becoming bored. “I’m coming back to the ship. I might have another data stream to work with.” As she clicked off the comm link, she said to her companion. "Darth Marr. Really?"

"He has a nice voice, for a humanoid."

**

Eva made a brief detour to the engineer room to speak to Risha prior to bringing the datapad to the lounge, where the rest of the crew awaited her arrival.

After running a purge on the files (given the history of the datapad), Eva’s omnitool procured the data segment desired. The image flickered to life on the lounge’s holoviewer. “Lana Beniko!” Bowdaar cried out immediately.

“Stars, Bowie, you should warn people about spoilers.” Eva chuckled and kicked up her heels to watch. She shot a look across the room at Guss. The pool was back on; the Wookiee’s torch for the pretty blonde lady had not gone out.

To her credit, Lana had been well-disguised, her face hidden and her Sith robes gone, but she’d forgotten to shed her lightsaber, plus her eyes – always the eyes – gave her away. 

The holo was recorded in the warehouse where Eva had confronted Zykken. “Kai Zykken? Greetings. I have important information for you.” 

The intonation of Lana’s voice changed. “The Red Hulls may be the most bloodthirsty and sadistic pirate crew. They’re heading toward Rishi.”

Corso shuddered beside Eva. She silently asked. “Remember that Jedi and Sith pair on Tatooine? That’s the voice. That’s the hypnotism thing.”

“Force manipulation,” Guss supplied. “They suggest it to people with weak minds. Or minds that aren’t expecting to get ambushed. You can resist it if you’re ready, sometimes. But it doesn’t work on everyone anyway – Cap’s got a hard head here.”

“Which is why they weren’t able to get me to shoot the other witch or get me to shoot you.” Eva rubbed her fingers together as she watched Zykken’s eyes go glazed, even more mentally absent than usual. 

Lana continued, “I’m sure you remember the debt that you owe the Red Hulls. Quite a few credits…not something they’re likely to forget.”

Even through the haze, Zykken had the sense to look scared. But Lana plowed onward. “My droids are spreading word of their arrival. If you were to do the same, they might be too distracted to come after you.” 

Akaavi shook her head. “No, they didn’t intend for us to get distracted. They know the Captain too well. The nav computer – she would want the head of the person that drew her to Rishi.” 

Eva raised a hand to rub at her temple. “Yeah, I know. I’m clever. They knew we’d find this, find Zykken, find someone from his card game that he ran his mouth to – but how did the news get to that one specific trader, that one specific Rishii, Qarrah? He’s a civy, not a pirate or a wastoid.” Eva stared at her cockpit ceiling for approximately thirty seconds. Then she yelled down the hallway. “T3!”

The droid rolled into her line of vision. “T3 = here.”

“You know how the ship has been jamming local security cams?”

“Affirmative.”

“Can you actually slice in and get your tiny articulated claw around some footage from around the time stamps on this holo right here?” Eva pointed at the frozen image.

T3’s dome spun around twice. “Affirmative. Target requested = ?”

“Her – can you find footage of her, Lana Beniko, talking to others?” Eva was willing to bet the ship that Lana had an insurance policy on all of this --- she would make sure that even if Zykken left town, they’d have a trail to follow. 

T3 went to work. Akaavi crossed her arms and stared at the image thoughtfully. “Captain, she mentioned that her droids were carrying the message. Did you notice crier droids on Rishi?”

Eva stopped and thought, then slowly shook her head. “Bowie?” 

Bowie stopped to remember. “On my way to the warehouse, yes, I saw droids. I didn’t hear what they said.”

Eva turned her attention back to T3. “T3, port my first request over to C2 once you’ve done the slicing in; he’ll be slower, but he’ll get it done. New request: feel like going on walk-about?”

“Affirmative. T3 = cabin fever.”

Eva cracked a smile. “You have recorded samples of Theron Shan’s slicing hallmarks?” 

“Affirmative.”

Eva gestured to Guss and Corso. “You two. Keep Akaavi on the line so she can watch your backs and intercept any non-Cove stream. Go find a droid and overload it, then let T3 uplink to it. He’ll figure out who remotely sliced in and where. That might render up enough data to triangulate where our friends are. Then we pay our friends a visit, as they expect, but in the most unexpected way.”

Eva rose to her feet and practically skipped out the door. 

Guss watched her go. “Oh boy. I sense trouble.”

“And you don’t need to be a Jedi to know she’s up to something,” Akaavi filled in. 

Eva’s ability to hear the voices dissipated as she moved swiftly through her ship back toward the bolthole storage in the cargo bay. Risha was below decks, coughing. “I can’t believe you’re going to make us do this.”

Eva peered down into the darkness. “It’s going to be _fun_. You need a light?”

Risha stuck her head out, and the light on her helmet nearly blinded Eva. “Borrowed this from the bar in the galley.

“Wise move.” Eva turned away and blinked a few times, trying to restore her vision. “You say anything about this to the crew?”

“Do you think I want to deal with half of them being excessively enthusiastic and the other half pouting? No, not yet. You can do the honors – or the dishonors in this case.”

Without a loud thump, a crate was heaved up next to where Eva’s feet were, and she took a few quick steps backward as a great cloud of dust kicked up. 

“Is that the first thing you wanted?” Risha’s voice came up as Eva stooped to dust off the crate label.

A smile crooked across her face. “Yes.” 

Before Risha could say anything else, Eva had lifted from her knees and staggered out the door with the crate down to her quarters. 

**

The internal ship chrono chimed out the hour. The sun was disappearing quickly, and the night was starting here. Rishi ran on a 20-hour rotation rather than a standard 24-hour Coruscant rotation, so bedtimes were going to be a trick to master, Corso considered to himself. He sat in the lounge, listening to a local news broadcast, gnawing absent-mindedly on a toothpick – Bowie’s baked ribs were good but they lingered in the mouth if a person wasn’t careful. 

Eva had disappeared a couple of hours ago with one of the many crates Risha had been instructed to dig up. Corso and Guss had gone out and blown up a droid as requested (blown up, overloaded, shot with a blaster and nearly got spaced by drunken pirates – same thing), with T3 along for the ride. Corso liked the little astromech: good sense of humor, for a droid. Now he was off digesting all the 1s and 0s to make sense of the signals the Captain was looking for.

Corso had picked up on the fact that they were going to run a pretty big con. The locals thought Eva was captain of the cannibalistic Red Hulls. At the same time, they were trying to find an Imp spy and a Pub one. Corso thought Theron was ok, but that Sith lady was not someone he was comfortable with. He never liked Sith on principle, but his view on them was even dimmer after the experience of being mind-controlled by one and almost shooting Eva. 

Yeah, he didn’t like “hand-wavy magic tricks” when they were performed by bad people. But now apparently there were bad Jedi, too, so what wasn’t wrong with the universe these days? Corso didn’t like what this whole investigation had dug up over the last three quarters of a year, but he figured they should see it through. 

Corso Riggs never thought he’d be part of something that would stir the drutash castings in the galaxy. He got into being a merc because he wanted to put things to right on planets – the people wanted to be part of the Republic, Corso wanted to help them. For money, but he wanted to help them get what they wanted. On Ord Mantell, he fought against separatists because they were denying the will of the majority of the planet to stay in the Republic.

Now here he was, with all sorts of criminals – and him being one now himself – ripping the wall coverings off everything to show a whole lot of stuff was never what it seemed. 

This just made Corso want to accelerate that Dantooine farm retirement plan he’d floated by Eva a few months before. Go away, stick his head in the ground, and only come up to shoot varmints. They might wear Imp uniforms, but they were still varmints. 

Corso had to admit, though, the Captain always had a good fight in her. He did like she stood up for the little guy in the galaxy. But golly, she had waded into something deep here – deep enough that the Republic SIS agent they’d been working with was now a fugitive. 

A criminal, like the rest of them.

Corso didn’t know what about Eva made people so eager to jump over that edge, seemingly. Hell, he was one of them that leapt at the chance to adventure with her. But then again, doing illegal things for good causes didn’t make them all bad. 

But who knew? Maybe in another six months it would all come out they were doing illegal things for a bad cause…

That had happened before.

Watching her go through that – all of that -- damn near broke his heart. Corso wouldn’t have done that to her. They’d all got fooled. 

Honestly, Corso thought it was all his fault for awhile. He was the one who told her to go see Darmas about getting her ship back. Stars above knew how it ground his gears that she took to him quick. But that was Darmas’ game, luring ‘em all in. 

Corso bit down too hard on his toothpick and had to spit the pieces out in the ashtray in the lounge. That was the end of that mindless entertainment. 

He made Risha feel dumb too, so Corso felt a whole hell of a lot better after she admitted that to him; Risha was way smarter than he was, more cosmopolitan and a lot meaner and suspicious. 

“Mean and suspicious” wasn’t a bad set of traits to have. It probably kept Eva alive long enough to set things right. He approved, Risha didn’t, but that was life. 

Now he was smart enough to know that Eva wouldn’t have taken him up on an offer to get away from all this and be quiet and happy somewhere rural. She kept right on doing what her parents did, but her own way. 

And speak of the damn Devil. “Holy mother of meteors, Eva, what the hell are we up to now?”

**

**Ten Days Later….**

It was too humid to sleep in his upper floor room in the safe house, even with the window open, stripped down to his briefs, so he lay awake, head angled just enough to look out at the starscape that marched by his window. If he got up and sat at the window, he could see the Rishi Maze from here.

Eva wasn’t coming.

Normally, Theron actually got to kiss the girl before he scared her off. Kiss her for real, not for a cover. 

Beyond that selfish, personal view, his mission just got harder. He lost his operative. He’d have to go out and do this himself. He’d have to trust Lana out in the field too. Lana had never gotten around to recruiting someone trusted within the Empire. She was new at this. 

Based on what she’d indicated, she had had fallen into being Darth Arkous’ assistant. Right person died at the right time, and up the ladder she went. Same with Arkous. 

Lana was green. Too green. He’d gone out to Dromund Kaas before the last mission on Rakata Prime. He’d met her in a bar. He’d stuck her with the tab – he didn’t even have any Imperial currency with him when he confidently ordered his whiskey, drank it, listened to her, then disappeared into the bar scene. She fell for an old ruse pulled by spymasters on trainees. 

They never traveled together. They never traveled with Jakarro either. Jakarro kept his ship unregistered. Theron burned through all the old IDs he had collected in a drawer back at his apartment on Coruscant and changed IDs at every port wherever his sleeper freighter docked. Theron didn’t ask Lana how she kept on the move. It was better for him not to know. Theron had managed to do the drinks trick to Lana three more times, vanishing into the crowd at whatever club or bar they arranged to meet at over the last few months.

She caught on by the fifth time. Lana also took that opportunity to ask him if he’d seen the smuggler at all. Of course not, he’d answered, the lie slipping off his tongue. He’d seen a thief on Nar Shaddaa and had been temporarily married to a vapid socialite lady adventuress. No smuggler anywhere near either of those jobs. 

Theron couldn’t have played off Katalla with Lana. She would have looked like an Alderaanian deer in the headlights of a speeder the entire time. Granted, she did have the knack of subtle mind manipulation, based on her work on the current op, so she could have just managed to get by being his … sister probably… who was a really bad pazaak player.

Theron kept to his meditation regime fastidiously whenever he knew he’d be around Lana. She was still an agent of the Empire, and he was still an agent of the Republic. They hadn’t planned on their alliance lasting this long. It should have been over by now.

There’d been reports that the Voidhound was immune to mind manipulation – Theron wasn’t sure if it was good propaganda at work or if she was really as Force-dead as she’d joked about. Theron couldn’t tell if Lana had tried anything on the smuggler – even as a test. Either Lana hadn’t or she had repelled it entirely with no effort. 

Then came Rakata Prime, the explosion at Carrick, and Trant’s revelation that nobody was safe, and nothing was sacred. All of the major Imp spheres were infiltrated, and so was every aspect of the Republic. Most painful of all, that included the Jedi and SIS, two institutions that Theron had revered. 

That’s why it was so useful to have her, playing out in the grey areas, detached from everything else. She played her own side. She was incorruptible from the Imperial or the Republic angle. If Theron had chosen any other operative, then there would have been that risk, even if she had been a Jedi or the most dutiful trooper. 

Theron got up from his bed and moved toward the window and its large sill. He sat there and looked out at the sky. It was a change in scenery; it was pointless in terms of reducing the temperature. He looked up at the Rishi Maze from this angle. He already missed Eva Corolastor. Yeah, he missed her because he could trust her, because she could improvise, because she understood---

Hell, he just missed her. Theron had to be honest with himself. He’d never left her behind on Manaan. There were days and weeks where he didn’t think of her at all. 

Then he’d found _Traitors of the Water, Pilots of the Air_ still stowed in his go bag, in a pocket he’d forgotten about. She’d given it to him to read. He’d been too polite to turn her down, but he’d never read it; he just activated his implants to read the datapad he’d stowed in his jacket pocket. 

Theron had read _Traitors of the Water, Pilots of the Air_ no fewer than three times, cover to cover, in the months since Manaan. It wasn’t as if he had anything else to read; he had to be careful about when and how he accessed the Holonet. The first time he’d read it, he’d encountered her on Nar Shaddaa about a week after he finished. He read it again, and like magic, she was on Katalla.

He had high hopes for the third reading. Theron finished it over two weeks ago. Then he’d sent the encrypted signal to the nav computer on Virtue’s Thief. When he retraced his signal after ten days of no response, he found that the nav computer in question was now in a junkyard in the Inner Rim. A repo squad had collected it, citing it as free-floating salvage. Initially, he had panicked in silence in the main room of the safehouse on Rishi– _Virtue’s Thief_ had been blown out of the sky. She wasn’t coming because she was dead. 

Then he remembered who he was dealing with. The junkyard did not report any other vintage XS Light Stock freighter parts collected from the area when he made a discreet inquiry as a restoration enthusiast. Eva had figured out someone had sliced her nav computer, and in response the security breach, she spaced it. 

Theron admitted he shouldn’t have expected any less of a reaction. Eva probably had some archaic device on her ship that would help her navigate as necessary. But that had been his one shot, his gambit to coax her to come to Rishi. Theron realized he’d been an idiot for messing with her ship, her extension of herself, as she once described it. 

It was an unwanted intrusion, a man hacking into something that wasn’t his. He could see where she took offense.

Now Eva wasn’t coming. 

Lana thought Eva had sold them out. They had to rush the op now, or else some authority would find them soon enough.

Theron had objected to that. He didn’t tell Lana any of his theories as to why she hadn’t shown, beyond suggesting she had a better offer elsewhere – it wasn’t as if they were paying her or even could pay her at this point.

Privately, Theron was unsure as to whether the offense was enough to keep her away or whether something else – someone else – had caught her attention. Then again, maybe she was waiting out there, waiting for him to ask her correctly. 

Nah, she wasn’t that petty, Theron dismissed the possibility. Maybe she was just waiting, to make him fidget.

She wasn’t coming. That was the logical conclusion. That was the premise Theron had to work with. He had to go it alone. It wasn’t different from his regular work at SIS and his regular life.

Besides, that was probably for the best anyway. Theron didn’t do this sort of thing well anyway. He would have inevitably screwed it up. 

It’s just that it was so damn inconvenient for this op.

Theron tilted his head to rest against the old transparisteel window. No, it wasn’t just inconvenient. He missed her. He was missing out on her through his own actions. 

She wasn’t the first one he’d done that to. She wasn’t going to be the last. 

Theron watched the night sky for awhile longer before heading back to his bed, but he had little hope for sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some mild whump at the end for one of our favorite spies, but don't worry -- I won't let anyone suffer for long. 
> 
> Next chapter, we will get into Eva's grand plans as well as Rogun's input on them, so we'll slide back in time a bit, then jump forward to the day after Theron's rough evening. I just wanted to get this scene in so we understand what our spies are thinking while Eva keeps them waiting.


	4. Old Business Partners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eva debuts her concept of the Red Hulls and a scheme to get in on the action on Rishi, a planet mostly ignored by the Republic. She soon finds out why Port Nowhere and Voidfleet haven't taken notice of the planet to this point.
> 
> They have. She just wasn't told for a good reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters are being posted at the same time, 4 and 5.

**10 days before**

“Holy mother of meteors, Eva, what the hell are we up to now?”

Corso’s shocked exclamation brought the rest of the crew out of their places on the ship; they’d all been waiting for Eva to reappear with whatever great idea she had now.

The sight was a thing to behold. Eva had made hasty work of a bunch of old uniforms she kept in storage and cobbled together something that looked like a cross between a skypirate admiral’s coat, an Imp officer uniform from about fifty years ago that was hacked off in different places so it’d be tolerable in Rishi’s weather, and a bunch of old Republic surplus. The whole kit and kaboodle had been subject to a blood red dye pack. 

As if reading his mind, Eva said, “My bathroom looks like I murdered someone, but hey, I think this looks pretty good.”

Corso’s eyes trailed upward toward her head. “Your hair –”

She done dyed it henna red and it was curly all over the place, tied up and away from her face with a blood red bandana. Corso had a distant memory of catching her looking at a holo image of a woman with hair like that: her ma, Athene. “Temporary,” Eva reassured him. “Little dye, half-assed effort at a perm – makes me look a little more wild and weird than usual.”

“No Dermaplast,” Risha said from the edge of the room. Her voice wasn’t harsh or nothing, just observing. 

They’d all seen that scar before, but Eva knew it made folks uncomfortable. She always hid it. 

“Pirates like the Red Hulls need to look a little rough around the edges.” 

Guss gaped slightly as he came in from the galley with Bowie but he recovered quickly enough. “Ok then. Guess we’re going for death stick-chic over here.”

Corso finally picked up on Eva’s eyes – it did look like she’d done too much of … something. The hollows in her cheeks were emphasized.

Corso felt a twist of his stomach as he thought about that time before Corellia, when she knew the truth and she couldn’t cope.

Eva’s voice cut through, a clear and cheery contrast to the memory that had lanced through Corso’s mind. “Makeup, but that’s part of the cover, Guss.” He silently looked up at Bowdaar, who was looking at the Captain with a mixture of interest and dread.

This all could go in a couple of directions. Bowdaar peered down at Corso, and they came to a silent agreement: wait and see.

Akaavi finally came into the lounge, stopped dead in her tracks, sighed, and sat down at the lounge table next to Corso. “Now what?”

Eva cued up a few visuals from her datapad and projected them into the holocomm screen. “Briefing time.” The first thing that popped up was an image of Rakata Prime. “So, just a reminder, the last time we saw a certain pair of spies, one of which was paying us to be on-call, was about three, four months ago. Since then we’ve been sort of waiting for whatever the next big thing is. And we got a few nice jobs, nothing to write back to Port Nowhere about. Until someone decided to slice into the Nav Computer.”

Eva brought up a schematic image of the now-departed piece of hardware. “Corso, you know how you mentioned gremlins, back before we went off to Rakata Prime?”

“Yes’m.”

“I think our gremlin was a Pub spy. Sending us to Rishi was part of his game, I suspect.” 

Corso grunted; he suspected as much based upon her almost diabolically happy reaction the night they spaced the nav comp. “And he’s smart, he tried to ping us again, see where we were at – somewhere on a garbage scow, probably. He doesn’t know whether you’re still around or not.” 

Eva pointed at Corso. “Yes. So now we let him dangle in suspense for awhile. In the meantime, I’m thinking we should make the most of this opportunity.”

An image of Rishi was projected on the Holoviewer. “We got a Pub planet that hasn’t been regulated by the Pub … ever, judging by the look of the place. Rish, what was it you said earlier, about refining fuel?”

Risha studied the data scrolling past the screen. “They have exonium here, but no refining facilities. We might want to look into Port Nowhere gaining control of such facilities.”

“Seems like a lot of effort to get a piece of the action and then still have to haul it off planet. Why haul it at all?”

Risha cocked her head, then her eyes sparked to life. “Now you’re thinking like Nok Drayen’s worthy successor.”

Akaavi leaned forward and stared at the data with a critical eye. “Conquering a planet – really? With one ship?”

Eva shook her head. “Nah. That’s conquest and hard power, which I don’t want to do and something I don’t have. I’m thinking a soft play. The Republic isn’t paying attention –”

“Which is why I think you should take it, they’re being weak. But how do you handle the natives and the Nova Blades?” 

Everyone had read the assigned Holonet articles; Akaavi was a rigorous security and intel officer, if Corso had to name exactly what she did on the ship besides look intimidating. 

Eva rolled a shoulder, the weight of the jacket apparently becoming less appealing by the second. “The Rishii themselves won’t be a problem as long as we don’t mess with their religious lands – we don’t need to make a fight with them. If they have land with exonium, then we’re obviously going to have to have a chat, but let’s get a hold of the planet first –”

Guss made a snorting noise. “Captain, I don’t know if you should be fooling around with planets like the Hutts do. They have massive overhead due to rebellions and unhappy campers because Nal Hutta ignores them and tries to avoid investing any money in them. Which is why _we_ have unhappy campers that join Voidfleet and _you_ spend a little money to make the Hutts life miserable by ginning up those rebellions.”

“Everybody needs a hobby,” Bowdaar grunted. He hated the Hutts more than anyone Corso had ever met.

Eva brought up a series of holostills of various Rishi environs. “I don’t plan on owning the planet like the Hutts do. I want Voidfleet to handle the exonium on this planet – mineral rights. I want a piece of the shipping action on this planet – they got a lot of nature and scenery but they’re short on entertainment beyond cantinas and hookers. Guss, you got what I wanted you to get?”

Guss pulled a small container out of his pocket and offered it to Eva. Eva grabbed it and strode over to the lounge table in order to open it up. Akaavi and Corso leaned back in their seats. “This is what is being distributed on Rishi.” She spread the contents of the box in a short but thick line on the table. 

Bowdaar growled at Guss. “You had that in my galley – what is wrong with you, Fish Man?” Bowdaar had rules about this sort of thing. 

Guss frantically pointed at Eva, who easily replied, “Yes, he did, at my request. I need it as a visual. As far as I’m concerned, after I’m done showing and telling, we can dump this into the water.” 

Corso recognized it at first sight. It was … No. “That’s spice, but it’s not spice, is it?”

Eva nodded. “What we got here is ryll cut with – something. Could be Rishi sand for all I know. I’m not having anyone stick it up their nose to try it.”

“Do you think it has any bad aftereffects?” Guss asked very quickly.

The entire room sighed. Of course, he would. 

Akaavi crossed her arms. “Excessive amounts of ryll can cause hypoxia – starves your brain of oxygen and can damage it.” She paused for a moment. “I don’t think it’ll have any ill effects on you.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Guss cheerily replied, and he relaxed, eyes slightly glassy. 

Eva silently let her eyebrows arch at the exchange, then shook her head. “Anyway. Ryll is weak as far as spice goes. You need a pharmaceutical grade lab to hop it up into something worth using in a hospital. It doesn’t help they’ve cut it with something that probably is inert and possibly dangerous to the user.”

Risha slid an expert finger through the spice. “The cut’s not good. Look at how the particles cling together even after they’ve been combined – if you tried to divide this into even lines to meter the hit, you couldn’t do it. The dosage is unpredictable. That makes it dangerous and definitely not something anyone with two braincells would ingest.”

Guss was humming the theme to Shiv Starrunner: Intergalactic Man of Mystery again.

Eva nodded. “So my angle here is that we fix the business here. Get the dangerous stuff out, get something more standardized and regulated in. Mix it with glitterstim – something easy and identifiable.”

Corso fixed Eva with a look. “You want Voidfleet – all hootchied up as the Red Hulls -- to run spice through here.”

“Yeah. People can buy it, if they want. It’s safer than whatever the hell that is.” Eva gestured to the mess on the table. “Safer drugs are a way into any market.”

“They’re also more powerful, little girl,” Bowdaar grunted.

Eva looked up at Bowdaar. “And how much they take is their choice. I’m not the galaxy’s mother. We can tell them what min/max is with some precision. Beyond that, it’s bad practice to kill your customers; we can control the flow, but if they decide to do something stupid with it-- ” Eva shrugged her shoulders. With that, she swept the dust back into the small container and handed it to Akaavi. “Dump it.” 

The Mandalorian wordlessly and effortlessly slid out of her seat at the lounge table and walked toward the ship exit to throw it in the ocean. 

In the time it took for Akaavi to get rid of the low-quality ryll, Corso contemplated that grey area they were about to go play in again. Eva had good business sense, and hell, at least they weren’t running weapons to bad people. At the same time, kids got mixed up in this sort of thing every day. Their choice, but kids are extra dumb about choices. They were – Corso, Risha, Eva – they all were at dumb 20, 21, 22. 

He was the only one that was completely free of that monkey-lizard on his back.

He scanned the room quietly. Guss was still drifting on whatever weak stimulation he got off the dust. Bowdaar disapproved. Risha’s mental calcucomp was whirring away, and Corso could almost hear the credits ring up. 

When Akaavi returned, she immediately asked, “If not hard power, then why the subtlety with soft power? Why come under the guise of the Red Hulls and not the Voidhound herself?”

Eva blinked at the question, then she cast her eyes back up at screen. “I’d like to live long enough to enjoy my criminal empire, thanks.” 

Corso swallowed hard. He’d been so damn petrified the last time she got shot up. _The last time she got shot up_ – that mean there were other times, and yeah, there were. 

Akaavi was already back at her, though. “You amass this strength, and you hide it. You become the greatest smuggler in the galaxy, and you still hide your name. You even have Risha masquerading as your double.”

Risha cut in, quietly. “We’ve seen that play out so many times – not just with her. The Voidwolf was a known face, a known figure in the underworld and in the Imperial Navy. How many people were gunning for him at the end? My father was known throughout the galaxy, and someone got the right drink to him at the right time.” She made a face at the spinning holo image of Rishi. “We hid her tracks after Corellia. We screwed up once –”

“I screwed up,” Eva interrupted.

“—and we blew up the Imperial Stock Exchange to let them know what she could do. We can’t play any one of our cards too many times. We can’t pull ash-rabbits out of our Sullustan bonnets continuously.” Risha turned a piercing glare on Akaavi, and Corso did not envy the Zabrak for a second. “We remain hidden and patient. She stays alive. We enjoy the profits – and people don’t come looking for her name or her face.” 

Akaavi could never be accused of cowardice – she stared right back. 

Eva resumed her briefing after an awkward pause.

“As I said, better spice is one way in here. What I’m also looking at is the fact that Rishi’s population growth is pretty linear. But here’s the thing – what didn’t you see in town that you probably should have, given the time of year?”

The lounge was silent as Eva looked around the room. “Come on. Little more than a month before Life Day. What were you doing? What do we expect to see in ports?”

Guss blinked. “Younglings. Kids.” He turned to look at Corso. “We were out shooting that droid before sundown. Did you see any sign of kids?”

Corso shook his head. “Population growth might be due to migration.” 

Eva swept her hand across her datapad. “Nope. Look at the birthrate statistics. The Pub doesn’t come near here for regulation, but it does collect data from birth and death registries.” 

There were enough kids on Rishi for a schoolhouse with more than one room, Corso reckoned. “Where are they?”

Akaavi shifted her weight. “At home, likely. It’s not safe, even in the daytime. You’ve seen the type of adults they have lurking. Beyond the tourist section of Raider’s Cove, this isn’t a place for children."

“Sad comment on the place when kids can’t walk around.” 

And there it was. 

Risha caught it the same moment Corso did, as did Bowdaar. “Oh, please, don’t ruin this with your do-gooder tendencies.” She looked utterly crestfallen.

“If we’re going to make money off the dredges of society, we should do something to compensate,” Bowdaar retorted. The Wookiee turned to face Eva. “Let me guess your plan. You have a list, yes?”

Eva nodded, a smile tugging at her lips. As Bowdaar began to rattle off the lines of her plan, they appeared on the Holoviewer. “So we run drugs to get into their trade circles. We run out bad gangs to win the people’s trust. Then the Red Hulls gain influence over people. They listen to you. Then you pull the strings on this planet. Do I have this right?”

Eva silently gestured at the enumerated list that now appeared. Yes, that was it.

Guss hummed slightly. “What about the spies? I mean, this is a Pub planet and you’re taking it. Spy Guy might mind. And Blondie might get jealous.”

“Republic doesn’t seem too attached to it, beyond the statistics it provides to say they have more people than the Empire in a given area. I have no idea why the Empire would be interested in it, other than to have it. Arguably, it’ll still be Pub in name, if not in actuality – which is exactly what it is now.” Eva put her datapad back into an interior pocket of the admiralty coat she wore. “So, what do you think?” 

Akaavi crossed her arms and said nothing.

Bowdaar tilted his head and then grunted softly. “We’re doing less bad than what’s already here.” He cast a look over at Eva. “And you said we’ll gain their trust.”

“Yeah, and not by the business end of a blaster. Promise.” 

Risha rolled her eyes. “I know an opportunity when I see one. But talk to Rogun first. I want to know why they never touched this place. I don’t want bad surprises.”

Eva nodded, then she looked over at Guss and then to Corso, who had remained seated at the lounge table. “Sound fun?”

Corso looked at her sidewise. “How long you plan on setting up shop here, making the Red Hulls cover? Before we get to tracking down the spies?”

“Week, ten days?” Eva offered.

Corso slowly nodded. “I’m thinking we use that warehouse you acquired as a homebase – a real pirate’s den. Keeps business away from the ship.” 

Eva silently nodded, then looked to Guss.

“Do we all have to get into a ridiculous get-up like you?” Guss asked.

“Well, now that you mention it –”

There was a collective groan – why’d he have to bring _that_ to her attention? 

**

Eva was winding down in her quarters when Rogun’s hail from Port Nowhere finally came in. She’d given the crew liberty to wear whatever they wanted, as long as it was red like the Red Hulls and somewhat adjacent to whatever she was wearing – as captain, she had to be most “ridiculous,” as Guss put it.

Eva thought all of her ideas were good ones.

She flipped the switch on her comm, and the familiar visage of the Changrian appeared on her desk. “How’s tricks, old man?”

“What the hell happened to you?” was his greeting.

“You know the Pub connection we’ve been working? Him or one of his connections gave us a rep of pirate cannibals, so I’ve decided to embrace it.” Eva spun in her uniform and smirked as Rogun just stared at her.

“Why can’t you be a normal smuggler and just be drunk most of the time? Handling your business would be so much easier without your tendency toward adventure,” he groused. He frowned deeply.

Eva knew she wasn’t going to like what he had to say. “Why no hand with the Minotaur?” she repeated her question from her earlier missive, her twirling stopped.

Rogun shifted his weight slightly. “So, how’s the rest of the crew?”

“Rogun.”

“I always wondered how that new guy worked out.”

Eva pressed her lips into a thin line. “Out with it.”

Rogun visibly was stiffer than he was normally. “You are _not_ going to fucking like this.” 

Eva audibly and exaggeratedly sighed, conveying her impatience.

“Do me one favor though.” 

“Hmm?”

“Sit down.”

Eva’s lip curled back. “What the kriff—”

“Sit. Please.” Rogun stared back at her, and the demand came in the same fashion as his orders had while _she_ worked for _him._

Hard to believe that was just five years ago now.

Rogun didn’t normally pull that authoritarian crap on her, so finally, Eva sat in her desk chair.

“Why no hand with the Minotaur?” Eva asked again, impudently looking up at the holoprojection of Rogun.

“Because Rishi’s human trafficking was Darmas Pollaran’s cover before his information brokerage.” 

Eva felt herself go cold. The only source of heat seemed to be in her head, and it was venting out of her ears in torrents. It took her almost a minute to find her voice. “What do you mean?”

Rogun closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. He suddenly looked old, like he had when they were chasing each other across the galaxy, thinking they were enemies. 

Eva suddenly felt very young again in the worst way possible. He was right to have her sit down. “Rogun—”

“When I first got to Port Nowhere as your guy, I sliced into the network and found a lot of his old data.” He stopped and his lips quirked. “A lot.”

She could just imagine what he found there. It would have made life plus 300 years look brief.

“The slave routes were his. He made them. I don’t know when, probably back in his earliest days of infiltrating the Republic.” Rogun shifted his weight again, putting his hands on his hips and staring at the floor. “When that became less profitable and less acceptable even in the underworld, he took on the information broker guise. Kept up the slave rings for pocket money, but his front changed. He was very well established in that role when you came along.”

Eva slowly asked, her voice not strong. “Rishi -- the Nova Blades here. They run slaves. But they’re pirates without –”

“Without flying through space?” Rogun supplied. Eva nodded. The older man – gods how he looked older now – scoffed. “They’re the holding company, literally -- Imp traffickers drop people off or the Novas abduct targets on Rishi. Pub human traffickers pick them up. Why waste money on starships when the sellers deliver to your door and the buyers pick-up?” 

Eva couldn’t look away from the holo image, even though she was probably burning out her retinas with how hard she was staring at it, eyes large. “The Nova Blades were Darmas’ silent partners in the human trafficking ring. They never figured out how they did it – how he got so many people and from where.”

Images of a courtroom on Coruscant filtered through her head. Words, voices, tears. 

Rogun looked up from the floor, finally. “Slavery has been illegal in the Republic for thousands of years. But SIS kept finding rings in the Republic. Most of them were chalked up to the Hutts – misdirection in some cases. Darmas as an Imperial agent connected the Imperial and Hutt slave systems there at Rishi, and he brought fresh bodies in and out of the Republic to serve demands. Things went to hell fast when you figured it all out.”

Her brain was reeling. “What did I do?”

_What did I fail to do?_

“When you took over Voidfleet – when you became the Hound – you told me and Ivory to cut the slave routes.” Rogun fixed his gaze on her. “You demolished the Nova Blades’ income then by over a third.

“Yes.” That made sense. Without Port Nowhere, without Darmas, they couldn’t get into the market. 

Rogun continued, “With all that Darmas had cooked up with Dodonna, the Novas were thinking pay day had arrived – slavery would be legal everywhere in the galaxy, and they, being a Republic planet with a system already in place, would soar financially with the slave auctions. And then – you.” 

Eva raised and lowered her head once. Images of her old life were running so fast through her head.

“Hey. Hey.” Rogun got loud over the comm and Eva looked at him. She’d apparently zoned out. “For the love of Alilia, please tell me your stupid ass hasn’t announced to the entire sector that you’re there.” 

Eva’s eyelashes fluttered as she pulled herself into the present. “Nah. Akaavi called me a coward, but I like not being shot at. Hell, it’s how I got the job in the first place – I killed the right person. I’m currently running as Captain of the Red Hulls.’ She gave her now-red hair a tug as it draped over one shoulder. “That’s it. Voidfleet wouldn’t be introduced to the equation until after the Novas are out.”

Rogun let out a breath he’d been holding. “Good. If Novas knew the Voidhound was among them, your head would be on a pike. Not just for what you did to Darmas and their payday, but also for that slave market crash in the Empire. That fucked them raw without a reach-around.” 

Eva distractedly nodded. Then she asked, “You and Ivory knew about Rishi?”

“Yeah.”

She paused a moment and let the puzzle piece fall into place. “That was what he was prattling about. He knew exactly how to start up that line of trade again.” Eva paused for a second then asked, foolishly, “You didn’t think to say anything about that?”

“What the fuck was Rishi to you before this week?” Rogun seemed to pull himself back. “I didn’t think it would do you any good knowing. Knowing more than what you did –”

“Rogun, I _didn’t_ know.” Eva felt the pressure in her head spike.

“I know,” Rogun quickly assured her. “I meant the other stuff with Darmas. Not—you know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” Eva let her eyelids slide over her eyes as she tried to recalibrate. “Back to the original reason I had you call. You saw the data I sent over and the gameplan.” She opened her eyes and leaned back to look up at him. “Crew is on board for it, as long as we leave Rishi in better condition than it is now.”

Rogun snorted. “That’s a low bar.” He flipped through the files on his datapad, which appeared from just off-screen. “What do you want me to do here?” 

“Start doing the research on the exonium refinement – what would that take to happen here. A modest shipment of spice would help too – glitterstim, too.” Eva paused. “Give me some recs on what a planet like Rishi would want, if it was fully functional. Legit goods people would want here but aren’t prioritized because everything is run by a bunch of slavers – which probably explains some of the other shit we’ve seen down here.” Eva rubbed her faced tiredly. 

Risha was going to so goddamn smug about being right. 

“Can do, boss. I’ll let you go – I got stuff here to handle.”

“Roger. Catch you later, Rogun.” Eva stood up in order to reach over and end the Holocall.

“Eva,” Rogun said.

She looked at his image.

“I meant it. Stay low and don’t mention the Voidhound. They will come after you.”

Eva nodded. “Understood.” 

Rogun gave her a last look before he cut the comm.

Eva stared at the wall behind her desk for a few minutes. Now that the shock had worn off, all the old feelings were coming back. The old bad feelings. She just wanted to be numb to them. 

She only hesitated another moment before she decided that a job started tonight was closer to being done tomorrow. 

Eva went out.

She never made it back to her bed.


	5. Playing It Cool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron and Lana realize they are no longer alone on Rishi. Meanwhile, Eva and Risha continue their plot to dominate Rishi trade. Risha finds out about the Darmas connection.
> 
> Even SHE is worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 4 and 5 are being posted at the same time.

**10 nights later, in the morning**

Theron Shan carefully closed the digital backdoor behind him on the Republic Fleet’s customs desk. Kai Zykken had officially declared he had no goods as he boarded the space station. He’d gotten off the planet without their knowledge. Theron _knew_ something had been up with the security holos and the fact he could no longer track Zykken. Lana had been all too willing to blame it on the storms that roared through Rishi regularly. Gorro had shown up on the death registry as a result of a bar fight, but Gorro was an idiot in the first place; a short life expectancy was not a shocker. 

Add all that on to the fact that they were set to start the op in less than three hours, and Theron _really_ missed ----

Click click – Theron knew the sound of safeties being flipped off.

“Hands toward Heaven.” A decidedly pirate-y voice rasped behind them. It sounded more like ‘-ands toward -eaven,’ the letter ‘h’ silent. 

Theron tore himself out of the mainframe he was plumbing through and gave a sidewise glare to Lana as he raised his hands. “You were supposed to be watching the monitors.” Theron raised his eyes to the screen in front of him, focusing on the dark spots to try to see a reflection of whoever this intruder was. 

“Storm took them out. And I’ve been having this wretched headache all morning,” she hissed. Lana looked exceptionally pale and ill. He felt some compassion, but now he was likely going to have to save both of them from these intruders. Theron’s mind raced through the options. 

His bracers could fire off darts once he turned around and got a visual with his implants. He assumed there were at least two armed intruders – two safeties. It would be better if there was only one intruder duel wielding, but if they hadn’t shot one of them (probably him) in an ambush, that suggested at least two people. He could throw himself at the intruders, getting in too close so that they couldn’t fire without hitting each other. If they somehow had managed to take out the security holo (which he considered far more likely than a storm), they weren’t dumb and they wouldn’t actually shoot. However, that also mean they had other weapons, such as a vibroknife for close combat. 

“Sith, that means up.” The voice grew impatient. 

“Just do it. I’ll take care of this,” Theron muttered. Lana did as she was told, finally.

“Now turn. Slowly.”

Lana turned slightly faster than Theron, and he heard her breath catch in her throat. He readied himself for a number of things, including Imperial or Pub authorities.

He wasn’t ready at all.

Two women stood with their blasters aimed toward them, cheery smiles plastered across their faces. They wore clothes often affiliated with the pirates of Rishi, but with their own modifications specific to each woman. Both uniforms were cut to show off the female form.

Theron’s attention tunneled toward the obvious leader, the one with the captain’s coat. Her hair was wild, long and teased up into a great mane, held back barely by a headband. Her coat was open. The uniform was made of the same thick cloth as the coat. Theron could see the v-cut neck, the suggestion of a sleeveless shirt, cut high. Theron could detect two blaster scars on the taut abdomen, a few lines across the body, the still bright pink scar sneaking out from the partly covered left shoulder. The trousers covered to the midthigh, exposing skin between there and the bottom of the knee, before the boots covered the rest of the leg. This exposed a blaster scar on one leg and clear, obvious signs of a burn on the other. 

There was a particularly nasty scar over the captain’s right eye. It began just below the eyebrow, crossed the lid (he saw it when she blinked), and stretched down into her cheek. The scar’s color had faded over the years, but it was an aberration across the pale, warm porcelain skin…

More than anything else, that scar had caused Theron not to recognize her at first glance. It was when he realized the other woman was Risha Drayen that he realized— “You’ve gone native.”

Eva Corolastor gave him a brilliant toothy grin, a true pirate’s smile. “Hello, Hello.” It sounded more like ‘–allo -allo’ in her guise. Then, in her regular voice, “You put us on quite the chase.” 

Theron lowered his hands, and Lana did the same. He actively fought the urge to charge toward her and grab her. Whether out of annoyance or out of relief or something else, he was not sure. For now, he let the professional cover of the SIS agent wash over him and played it cool. “Guilty as charged. Sorry if we put you out, but we did have to be cautious.” He raised his chin slightly toward the front door. “I’m guessing you’re to blame for our security cam being out….and I wonder if you’re somehow responsible for our slightly under-the-weather Sith here.”

“Oh, good, it did work. Guss will be happy his suffering wasn’t for nothing,” Risha pulled out a device and clicked it off. 

Lana let out a gasp of relief. “What is that thing?” 

Risha pocketed the round device again. “Old Mandalorian toy – they found it while we were at Rakata Prime. It emits disrupting Force waves, apparently. It’s enough to distract Force users, though it doesn’t actually do any harm – and if they know it’s there, they can likely overcome it. We tested it on Guss, of course, before bringing it here.” 

“Doesn’t affect Force-numb bantha fodder like me and Theron, though. All the same, we wanted to get the drop on you two, bit of good-humored vengeance,” Eva said as she holstered her blaster, safety back on. 

“We had to get you here without an obvious trail. Sorry we couldn’t be more direct,” Theron apologized.

Eva planted her hands on her hips and sighed overdramatically. “After all of this time, no contact, no signals, no Jawagrams – I was starting to think you didn’t care.”

She was teasing him. Flirting with him. He could go right back at her. He pointedly made eye contact, catching her a little off-guard – for once, he pinned her. “Is that a fact? What are you thinking right now?” The dark eyes eagerly engaged his, and he felt a frisson of energy up the base of his spine.

“Shall we focus please?” Lana requested. “The Revanites have gone to increasingly severe lengths to hunt us down. We were unsure as to what to make of your silence.”

There was the unsaid fear that Eva had sold them out, at least on the Sith’s part. The fact that they hadn’t been burned on Rishi indicated Theron’s caution.

Eva’s eyes lingered a second longer, but she broke the connection, reluctantly. Theron was satisfied. She shook her head. “We got your message over two weeks ago. Figured out pretty quick you were trying to give us a cover story once you arrived here. We took the time to set up shop as an actual gang.”

Theron closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with his hand. “Yeah. That’s what I was afraid of: the Red Hulls are now real. And you’re leading them.”

“Yarr.” 

Lana bit back a laugh. “Oh, I do like you. Cannibalism and all?” 

Risha rolled her eyes. “Only on raids, apparently. Fortunately, Bowdaar has a lot of large animal parts in cold storage at the moment so we can fake it for the time being. What’s the point of cannibal pirates, by the way?”

Theron intervened. “We need you to go after the Nova Blades. They’re the major gang that runs things on Rishi.” Theron reached back to strike a few keys on the computer, and it projected a few holo images of the uniform, their encampments, and their extensive conquests. As he turned to face Eva and Risha again, the two women exchanged a look. He couldn’t decipher it at first glance – some part of a previous conversation, he supposed. “They butcher entire crews and enslave anyone on Rishi who stands up to them. They’re working with the Revanites.”

Eva’s eyes danced back and forth as she read through the screens. “Been here for nearly two weeks, and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of a Nova Blade. I don’t know the Novas. They don’t seem to have any presence off of this planet. I’ve seen all, sorts of others here - White Maw off Hoth, for example.”

“Up until recently, the Novas were completely settled on this planet – had been for generations. You remember our scare on the way to Rakata Prime?” Theron waited for her to look at him before he continued. “I’m going to say that was them, with their ships wearing Revanite colors. As for why you haven’t seen them here, I suspect they’re keeping busy with off-planet business and keeping it to themselves on base.”

“And using technology way beyond their means,” Risha murmured. “The dragnet they used to stop the _Thief_ – not standard issue for any law enforcement.”

Lana picked out a particular star map to magnify. “The Nova Blades have changed tactics since they encountered you. They’re now attacking trade lanes in very specific areas. They’re in unmarked ships, so it does look like random strikes; we’ve only untangled it because of their transmissions. Over the last several months, they’ve gradually re-mapped quite a bit of stellar traffic. Very strange.”

Eva took a few steps forward to analyze the map. The glow of the screen made the scar over here eye all the more clear to Theron. It had been a nasty, painful wound. “The Revanites have some major expenses. Piracy would help them cover costs. Bodies in exchanges for arms and munitions.”

Lana stroked her chin thoughtful. “Perhaps, in part. But the attacks seem to be patterned, though we can’t determine its purpose.” 

Eva flicked her wrist at the screen and brought up the list of conquered ships. “At first glance…” Her eyes scanned the data. “I can tell you these ships aren’t with Voidfleet. They are officially and openly affiliated with Republic or Empire. There also aren’t any neutral or Hutt contractors in here. The Revanites are targeting their own governments of origin.” Eva’s eyes slid over toward Theron for a moment.

Theron liked a clever girl, and he liked a girl who remembered the pieces they’d started to put together on Katalla. Voidfleet wasn’t in this game, but the Hutts….

Eva turned back to Risha. “Think we can pipe this back to Port Nowhere, have Rogun take a look? He knows how the wind blows.” 

Risha stared at the information for a moment. “Get me a data stick and we’ll run it through the _Thief_ directly. I have a few things I want to look at too. Something … is wrong. It doesn’t feel right.” Risha sneered at the data; it was bothering her just to look at it.

Eva looked between the two operatives. “Risha’s criminal instincts are better than my own skills on some days. Give it to her.” 

Both Lana and Theron went to work to offload the data, quickly producing a file dump for Risha to plow through. Wordlessly, she left the safehouse and headed directly back to _Virtue’s Thief_. 

Theron drew up a few more files more immediate to Rishi. “Now we need to find out what the Nova Blades know. Their computers could tell us everything. However, directly attacking the computers would make the Revanites suspicious. We need to disguise our real motives.” 

Eva turned to look at him. “So that’s why you told everyone we’re pirates. Our attacks look like a fight between gangs, instead of a targeted move.” She was smug. “We’ve read it right then. We’ve done a very convincing job of establishing ourselves here.” 

“Oh?” Theron couldn’t help but let the amusement enter his voice.

“Yeah, it seems that the Red Hulls moved into an seaside warehouse – very nice ocean view -- previously used by the Corellian Run Scoundrels.” Theron knew the one. Of course, she had taken it right out from under Zykken. “The Hulls are cutting in on some shipping. They’re talking to some of the lower level gangs. See if they can get a piece of the action.”

“Exactly.” Theron was rather pleased with the chaos that he had already heard about. “Before we send you for the main event, we should hit a few more Nova Blade holdings to solidify the cover story.”

“The Blades have a supply cache hidden nearby. Once the Red Hulls have destroyed it, word should spread quickly.” Eva turned her head toward Lana, attentive. “We have some mutual friends who are excited to help with the task. They’ll meet you in the field.”

“Jakarro and C2-D4,” Eva filled in. 

Lana nodded. “We were planning on deploying today, rain or shine, since we were anticipating on being short-handed….but I think we can be patient, especially if the Red Hulls are as fierce and competitive as you’ve suggested.” 

Eva gave the spies a smile worthy of the pirate’s guise she wore. 

Theron finished the briefing. “So, rained out til tomorrow. I’ll ping T3 now that I know he’s on planet. While you’re hitting the supply cache, we will keep spreading the word about your ‘grudge’ and see if we can find any other targets. Sound good?” 

“Aye, aye.” Eva turned to follow Risha out, but Theron stopped her. He was curious.

“Speaking of eyes, what happened there?” Eva turned to face him, her right side illuminated by the computer lights. Theron grasped her chin with his left hand, carefully, to get a better look at it. “It’s not new, but I haven’t seen it before.”

Theron tipped her chin and gently moved her head to get a better look at that mysterious mark on her eye. When it first happened, it must have been gruesome. Eva was shockingly docile in his hands. He could see the pulse in her neck, and he noticed it gradually quicken the longer he touched her. Her dark eyes remained trained on him. “What happened?” he asked her.

The eyes sparkled up at him. “Violin string snapped when I was 12. I got my eyelid down in time, but it scarred horrifically.” 

There was a pause as he studied the scar and its shape. “That’s not what really happened.” His voice was low in timbre. 

“No,” she whispered, all mischief as usual. 

He made a dismissive noise in his throat. Fine, let her keep that secret. “Why haven’t I seen it before?” His fingertip trailed down the length of the scar. 

“I usually wear a layer of Dermaplast. The Voidhound is meant to be perfect. More personally, for Eva Corolastor a woman with a scar is so much easier to identify than just another girl in the galaxy. Having no identifying marks keeps the crew safe.” Her voice was even and low as he continued his careful analysis of her face. 

Theron gently turned her face in the light again. “You hide in plain sight. You’re always in disguise.” She nodded in his hands. “One of these days, you’ll have to show me everything without the costume.”

Eva’s eyes opened wide as Lana’s voice broke in from across the room. “Not now and not here, Theron.”

Theron slowly realized what he just said as well as -- “That-that came out wrong.” Theron let her go, quickly, eyes racing to find where Lana was. She wasn’t even looking at them, her back turned as she worked at another console. 

“On the contrary. I think it came out right,” Eva murmured to him. Theron felt fire in his head as she flounced off, all too pleased with herself. 

**

“So, how long are you going to string them on?” Risha asked as they moved through the streets, back toward the ship, rain pouring down around them.

“Let’s run that data they gave you first. See what their capabilities are, and see how else are they getting people off this planet,” Eva replied. “If we can stop that in cooperation with the agents of the two major governments supporting us, they may not have as many objections as they would if I just said, ‘How much for just the planet?’”

Then she added, “You know, Rogun was right.”

“You’d be dead on sight here, if you were as you normally are?”

Eva nodded as they crossed the wharf back to the ship. 

Risha caught the edge of some emotion from Eva. She didn’t know exactly what it was, but she pressed it. “You somehow screwed them over before I met you?”

“Not quite.” 

“This got anything to do with the fact you’re sleeping in the cockpit again?” 

For anyone who knew Eva, her sleeping in the cockpit was a sign of trouble. Eva had apparently done it when she was a child, on and off when her parents let her. She did it for a long time after she first became captain. She did it after from Tatooine all the way until she became Voidhound. She did it after the Port Nowhere episode. Sometimes she did it when she was sick or upset about something – one or two nights, but she’d go back to her quarters when the trouble was past.

Eva had been sleeping in the cockpit, in the captain’s chair, for ten nights, since the night she dyed her hair and got them all to start construction on the Red Hulls uniforms.

“Yeah, it might,” admitted the Captain, grudgingly. 

Risha stopped dead in her tracks. “Out with it. I’m not going back to the ship with you until you come clean on this.”

Eva stopped and turned to look at her, with an expression that conveyed the sentiment of, “Really?” 

“I don’t do business blind” was what Risha said. Eva was fluent in Risha-ese, which meant this translated to, “I’m worried about you, you idiot.” Rain was coming down in buckets now.

“Fine. You know how the Novas are into slavery – we knew that after Rogun spoke to us.” Eva hesitated a second. “Their silent partner prior to the Revanites was Darmas Pollaran. This is where he trafficked the women from. This was his cover before he got into sabacc and information dealing.” She laid it out there – Risha had asked for it, and she got it. Bluntly, brutally. with no forewarning.

For a few moments, Risha felt as if the floor was pulled out from under her. The cool, indifferent character with the superiority complex faded, as she watched Eva look around nervously, something so unlike her. 

For a few moments, Risha and Eva were back in their early twenties, realizing that Eva had –

“Nothing ever stays dead in this galaxy, does it? Things just rise back up and haunt you forever.” Risha managed to squeeze out the words in a rush. 

Eva sighed and reached up to adjust her bandana. “Yeah, well. Point is, they got plenty of reasons to be mad at me for that, plus the whole slave market crash we engineered. The Voidhound is a head that would be hunted here, no due deference or interest in making friends at all here.” As Eva’s hands dropped, she made a request. “Don’t tell anyone on board. They’ll worry.”

“Too late for me on that count,” Risha retorted, and that’s when she really knew that this upset _her_. 

Imagine what it was doing to Eva. 

“You know how Bowie will get. You know how Corso will get.” 

“What about Akaavi?” Risha asked. “She went with you when –”

Eva was already shaking her head. “No, she’ll do that Mandalorian _jai'galaar_ thing where she watches me and is ready to swoop down screaming on anyone who even breathes in my direction….” Then Eva stopped. “Then again... she – you should -- ”

Eva, indecisive. This was _bad_. 

Risha swallowed. “I’ll keep it to myself. For now. You start acting … You start making –” Eva, indecisive; Risha, inelegant – it struck Risha how fresh the wounds still were. 

“You’ll tell someone if the situation fits. I get it.” Risha noticed how the temperature had dropped due to the rainstorm; Eva’s breath was visible now. “I need to get a hat, if this place is going to have this much rain.” 

Risha rolled her eyes at the non sequitur. “Let’s get back to the ship then.” The pair took a few steps forward before Risha stopped again. “What about Guss?”

Eva stopped in her tracks too. “He was there when I shot Darmas. He saw the whole thing on Corellia.”

“Guss is cool? For this?”

“Yeah, Guss is cool.”

All joking aside, much like his capabilities in the Force, the Mon Cal was randomly trustworthy. 

This was one of those random things. 

The pair continued back to the ship in silence, only to be met by a very excited little droid. “Theron Shan = alive.”

“Not so loud,” Eva gently warned him, hand sliding over T3’s dome. “You’re going to short yourself out, playing in the rain like this.”

“Shipment = arrived. T3 = alone. C2 = afraid of water.”

Risha chided him, “Yeah, C2 is smart and he has more exposed wires than you do. The rest of the crew went to the warehouse?”

“Affirmative.” 

“The delivery boy gave you the security codes for the drop-off?”

“Affirmative. Delivery boy = no access to ship.”

Eva looked around and finally saw the neat pile of waterproof crates left behind by Rogun’s agent. “I know we say we like to do our own wet work, but this takes it to another level.” 

The two women – with a little help from T3 and C2, who stayed out of the deluge entirely – swiftly moved the Voidfleet goods into _Virtue’s Thief_ cargo bay.

Risha noticed that Eva checked the spice shipment closely. “Taking a packet for samples?” she asked casually.

“Hey, we got the first meet-and-greet at the warehouse later this week – I was worried this wasn’t going to come in on time, after all that talk I did with them last week. We have potential buyers. Would you circulate something without trying it?” Eva asked.

“Apparently, they do, based on the ryll Guss picked up. Then again, they may be idiots like Guss.” A smile played at her lips. “Though I will say I don’t think they’ll be able to resist this stuff. It even looks nice in the packaging.”

Eva gave the packet of spice a long, hard look. Then she turned to Risha. “You still got a small stash, or you need a top up for your weekend getaways?” 

Risha contemplated the answer as she watched her captain carefully. “I’ll check. What about you?”

“Gotta look the part of a free-wheeling spice dealer, right?” 

“….Right.”

There were a few moments of silence.

“Quality assurance?”

“Even better excuse. But let’s hurry up – we do have a schedule to maintain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of this chapter is exactly what you think it is.


	6. Rishi Op, Day 1: Right and Left Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1 of the Rishi Op begins with being rained out. That doesn't mean nothing happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting; I should be catching up on chapters this week. Thanks for your patience.

Eva’s comm went off at 0700. 

She only knew it because the buzz woke her, and then the ship’s chrono indicated 0700 with seven quiet, almost-silent clicks that only the captain, who was sleeping in her chair, sock-wearing feet up on the dashboard, would hear. 

Considering she’d crawled into bed at 0400 (thereabouts, maybe), the buzzing wasn’t particularly welcome. Blindly, Eva sat up in the pilot’s seat of _Virtue’s Thief_ and felt around the dashboard for wherever she’d slung off the unit last night. 

Neighbors came to visit the warehouse. Business was already starting, way ahead of the meet-and-greet she’d scheduled. The rest of the crew had done a good prep job on the warehouse, so it worked out. This was good for the Voidhound, good for Voidfleet, good for business. But that was the night job. The day job apparently was _really_ a “day” job. Before Eva cracked open sand-paper eyelids and took a breath through an all-too-sensitive nose, she made a bet.

Upon opening her eyes and taking the first deep inhale of the morning, she found she was correct: Lana Beniko was the early riser of the two spies. Theron was _punctual_ , she had guessed, but Lana was _brutally early_ : a 0700 comm buzz for a 0900 meeting. 

0900 meeting – who the hell does that when she gave ‘cannibal pirates’ as a job description? 

Kriff.

Eva knew Sith were cruel, but damn.

Eva ran through the crew list in her head. Akaavi might be sufficiently awake and the least hungover of the bunch, but 0900 was a big ask. Bowie was not a morning Wookiee, period, no matter how sober he was. 

Oh, yeah. She could always ask the newest member of the crew, who might actually bounce off his suspension in joy. Additionally, he was incapable of being hungover from sentient substances (as far as she knew). 

Eva pulled her blanket a little tighter around her shoulders as she stood up and dragged herself along the hallway of the _Thief_ , right shoulder digging into the wall. She couldn’t lean left or else she might trip into the crew quarters’ door. Her door was locked, so she dragged herself along that side instead. 

It wasn’t the amount anymore. It was the comedown. 

T3-G2 sat in the engine room, communing away with the computer in there. It had become the droid’s hobby project to update it as much as possible without a) frying the museum piece; and b) actually getting caught updating it, since T3 was supposedly MIA with rogue spy Theron Shan. When not working on discreetly updating the _Thief’_ s systems as much as it could bear, T3 had the opportunity to roll around planetside with Eva, since the Pub was not looking for a unit with a female owner, let alone a non-descript brunette in seedy establishments.

He even got to use his shock taser attachment once. “That = awesome,” was his summation on the night.

“You feel like seeing your boss, T3?” Eva asked, her voice crackling.

T3’s head spun. “You = rough. Night/morning = busy?”

“Yeah.” Eva leaned her shoulder hard into the doorframe of the engine room. “You got any identifying marks that would attract attention here? It’s one thing when you’re clowning around with Guss and Corso – they’re distraction enough. But just me and you?”

T3 whirred for a moment. “T3 = generic chassis. Technology scanner level = high to detect SIS components. T3 = spy also.” There was a slightly hopeful boop. “T3 = stay at hideout?”

Eva had to smile. He missed Theron. “We’ll see. They had an A7 unit rolling around in there.”

“T3 = take him.”

“I bet you could.” T3 was fun before, but now he was a real party by himself after the adjustment to his personality board. “So you think you could roll through Rishi’s main drag without getting a second glance?”

“T3 = boring compared to Red Hull Captain. Grease and dirt = costume?”

Another chirp, and Eva stifled a laugh. “You go ask C2 to dirty you up a bit. He probably has something disgusting lying around. I’ll get into my kit and meet you on the dock.”

“Affirmative.” There was a pause for a moment as T3’s lights flashed, then he ventured in a low buzz. “Smuggler = sick?”

The guilt and shame only stung for a second. “Nah, I’m fine. Don’t worry.” Eva gave the droid another kind, tired smile and made her way back to her quarters.

As the door closed behind her with hiss, the smile dropped, replaced by an irritated scowl. If a droid could pick up on it, then the spies would too. No good. She only thought about it for a few seconds before making the decision. 

Hell of a way to start the morning, barely three hours after the night had ended. 

**

The knock that came at the door of the safehouse was nearly cute. A syncopated rhythm that begged for a response – Theron had to shake his head, knowing exactly who that was. He was up to his eyeballs in datastreams at the moment, quite literally. “A7, grab the door for our operative, would you?”

“Agent Shan = not cautious.” If A7-M1 had a voice, Theron imagined it would be that of a tweedy, indeterminately middle-aged accountant that just was disdained at everything that crossed its path. 

Theron would have rolled his eyes if it wouldn’t have booted him out of the mainframe his implants had wedged him in. “She just knocked out the first half of the Mando nursey rhyme. How many people are going to do that, wait for you to open the door, and then blast you?”

A7 made a profoundly disgruntled noised and likely clicked something under its proverbial breath as it rolled to release the security lock. 

There was a bizarre, spitting-like noise that came out of the droid next, like a loth cat who’d had water dumped on it. Theron was really going to have to get out of that file dump now. A7 _hissed_. 

“Hey, he’s on his good behavior. You better be the same, or you can switch off.” Theron closed his eyes as he extracted himself out of the Holonet. Nothing like starting morning with some aborted work and Eva Corolastor telling an Imp droid to do something highly offensive to itself.

He’d been sorely tempted to order that over the last few weeks.

Theron heard A7 roll off in disgust, huffing as only a droid could. As his vision returned to normal, he felt something nudging his leg. Theron’s eyes blinked a few times as he looked down into the darkness, only to find a familiar optic circuitry set looking back at him. “Hey, T3. How’s tricks?”

T3 didn’t respond; he spluttered happily and roved around in a small circle. Theron crooked a grin over at the droid then looked up at Eva, who was in full pirate guise. “He wanted to see you. Sorry about your trousers.”

Theron stared at her for a second, confused, before he looked down. There was a very clear T3-shaped grease mark on him now. “Not like I’m being seen in public anyway. He wanted to be disguised?”

“How’d you guess?” Eva’s eyes were bright as she leaned back against the strategic table he and Lana had set up. 

“He already _had_ a personality before you got to him; he was the one who shut down Republic Fleet on his own initiative to keep you from leaving.” Theron’s grin returned as Eva tossed the wild red hair she’d chosen for her disguise, a smile slicing across her face as well.

Before she could respond to him, Lana appeared in the room, 0900 on the dot. “Good morning. Here on your own?”

Eva used her chin to indicate T3. “Brought Theron his droid. You might need to keep him separated from yours. That A7 seems … territorial.”

“A7, behave,” Lana said sharply, and there was scuffling noise in the next room. Lana went to the strategic table and started to pull up data and maps to show Eva. In the meantime, she attempted to make small talk. “Droids do forget their places, at times, especially when they aren’t in system-standard environments. I’ll have to have it reset once all of this is straightened out. They might grant me a new one, given this one’s age.”

Theron watched silently as Eva’s smile dissipated as she listened to Lana. He had started to suspect she was one of those droid rights people – not that there was anything wrong with that, but it wasn’t exactly popular or convenient for governments to consider recognizing several billion additional citizens, not to mention to make requirements as to what counted as “sentient.” 

That was more of a Republic problem, honestly; the Empire still had slavery, and droids slotted somewhere beneath them. If a place didn’t consider sentients “real people,” what hope did droids have?

Eva spoke next, with less liveliness than before. Her affect was transitioning to the flat one she used as the Voidhound, though she didn’t adopt all the mannerisms and quirks. She sailed right past the droid issue. “So to what do I owe being roused out of bed at 0700 after finishing my cover as Red Hulls captain at 0400?”

Lana turned to look at Eva just as thunder rolled outside. Lana’s yellow eyes roved toward the ceiling momentarily. Theron couldn’t blame her. The first time it rained here, both of them had spent most of the night hastily trying to patch the roof. The old pace was watertight now, but it had taken more than one storm to figure out where all that water was coming from. “Well, based upon the weather forecast, our run on the caches won’t happen today. Rishi’s atmospheric flight controller system is non-existent, and Jakarro won’t take _The Warthog_ up unless he has visibility.”

Eva smirked at the use of the ship’s christened name. “So what’s the plan for today then?”

Lana brought up several maps. “We’re looking into alternative sites as well as concerns that we may have to address. This can include, but is not limited to, the Nova shipping patterns off-planet. I assume you have some idea?”

Eva didn’t answer immediately, and that caused Theron’s head to turn. When she did answer, her eyes had become shark-like in appearance. “I am working to meddle in _some_ of the business, but not all of it. What are you getting at?”

Lana brought up a few schematics. Theron immediately recognized them due to his work in human trafficking: shipping containers that could support sentient life for a limited duration. “I don’t believe you are particularly interested in this end.”

Eva stared at the image before her. “No.”

Lana clicked through some data. “As you’re very much aware, slave trading in the Empire has been suspended for the last few months, with a few more to go. That seems to have led to a crisis within the Novas. Based upon interceptions, we know they’re affected by this, but to what extent is unknown. We have seen these containers on Rishi around the Nova sites, so this is still an active trade.”

Theron cut in here, smoothly. “We believe the Empire would have more information, as the Novas tripped the Republic’s radar occasionally, but never enough that I or one of the agents I knew got involved with busting up a ring or a route. Neither of us can log in with our security credentials under the current circumstances. The same goes for the droids.” Theron tilted his head slightly, fixing her with a careful gaze. “Would it be out of the Red Hulls’ character – as you’ve established it – to be into the slave trade? To inquire about it? To move a few sentients, but to a contact I still have that will cut them loose?”

Eva turned her eyes on him, and frankly, the longer she looked, the more his flesh began to crawl. That was the Voidhound staring at him, and she wasn’t particularly likable. “We’re focused on other matters. Slavery would be inconsistent. It’d also be too much to demand of the crew. You know why, even for playacting. We’d rather just break the ring, no dancing around.”

Theron nodded. He looked down at the console, as if to bring some other data or maps (which he was). It also bought him another moment to think.

Something wasn’t right here. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something seemed off… with her. They’d spoken about this sort of thing before – it hadn’t set this off sort of response. Not looking directly at her, his hands played over the console, and he brought up the map of cantinas in Rishi. There were more of those than any other building in town. “You can keep an ear to the ground on that, though, right?” Theron’s eyes rose up from the console to meet hers.

Eva nodded. “We can do other things to convince others of our sincerity of getting into Rishi for the long haul….” Then there was a curl of the lips, and the pirate emerged slightly. “Though that depends on how hard the law will be looking at us on this matter.”

Theron regarded her carefully before moving on with the briefing. “Cantinas are the main source of legal money generated on Rishi. The alcohol they serve – of questionable origin, but the liquor licenses are Republic-recognized.”

Eva was quick to pick up. “Alcohol trade – you want the Red Hulls to dabble in that?” 

Theron looked sidewise over at Lana. “We were thinking that could be a legitimate front for the Red Hulls – alcohol distributor – if I still had my resources. I don’t, but I can probably forge something for the time being. Temporary.” 

Eva hummed contemplatively. She turned away to think and to pace. Theron let her. She knew the business end better than he or Lana did, and if she didn’t know, she had Risha Drayen and Rogun Matt’rik in her corner.

Suddenly, Eva spun around to face the two operatives. “I can do a lot more than the alcohol trade if I don’t have to worry about the authorities coming back to us once this op is over. A lot more.”

Lana’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

Eva gestured with her hands as she walked back toward the strategy console. “People make their own choices, you know? So I just supply the demands of the consumer.” 

Everything dawned on Theron in that moment, but he let her finish. His temper surged as she drew near, the angle of approach causing her to be bathed in an unnatural blue light from the console.

Smugglers. Why did he have to pick a smuggler?

Eva carried on, casually. “I just don’t want invest so much in your cover story that you end up having to pay me back later, once you two are good with your governments again. At the same time, I don’t want your government looking too hard at what I did to make your op a success and have it bite me.” She spread her hands in front of her. “It’s easier if I just…mop up here, uninterrupted.” 

“You’re asking us to cede this planet to Voidfleet, essentially.” Theron’s voice was sharp. “And you want to run vice through here.”

“Yeah.” Eva’s response was simple and direct, as if she’d just asked for a few credits to buy a soda. 

Shrewd. Definitely unacceptable. But shrewd. “What are you going to do with a planet?” Lana asked her.

“Leave it in better condition than the Novas have or the Hutts would. It’s not like the Republic has paid it any mind in over 300 years.” Eva shrugged. “It’s not a loss for the Republic. It’s not a gain either. Same goes for the Empire, unless you two want to squabble over your census numbers.” 

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” Lana stepped back from the table, indicating that she’d feign ignorance of any such arrangement between a Republic agent and his asset.

Theron shot her a dirty look as she withdrew. Lana didn’t react – this was not her fight. Fine, then. “Can you give us a few minutes?” 

Lana nodded and withdrew back to the other room on the lower level. She’d return within ten minutes, so this conversation had to move quickly.

As Lana’s footsteps faded away, Theron turned his attention back to Eva. “I thought you said you wanted to destroy the Hutt Cartel, not emulate them.”

Eva tossed her hair back over her shoulder, the blue cast making it almost purple. “This isn’t like Hutt Cartel.”

“It started somewhere.”

“They never had good intent.”

Theron nearly burst out laughing. “Running drugs is ‘good intent’? We have to ruin the planet to save it? Are you seriously going to try to play that line on me?” He was incredulous.

“Have you seen the drugs they’re using here? They’re dangerous, even by criminal standards.” Eva gestured with an open palm to the world outside. 

Theron’s hand rubbed at his forehead momentarily before dropping to his side. “It’s a slum planet beyond the tourist sections, Eva. They don’t even let their children out during the daytime, not without a guardian with a blaster. You bringing ‘better’ drugs in here is not going to help that.”

“Getting rid of the slavery will. Getting rid of the Novas will. Getting rid of low-quality spice will. You let the Red Hulls become something here—”

Theron interrupted her, “It was meant to be a cover.”

“Not anymore,” Eva retorted. “Voidfleet wants a piece of the action on Rishi. You want me to be your blade here to cut out the Novas and the Revanites. It’s a trade – and you said you didn’t mind extracurriculars.” The dark eyes sparked, and Theron could hear unsaid words laced into her phrasing. Then she stepped in toward him. The blue cast disappeared as her angle changed, as she directed all attention toward him.

That made him angry. She wasn’t going to play that card on him today. Theron stepped back, saying, “So this is your payment. Me giving you a pass to do this is your payment.”

“I’ll still help you and Lana here. I’m not a huge fan of zealots trying to take over the galaxy. All I want you to do is treat me like any other crimelord who would have moved in here after your business was done on Rishi. Because someone would have. Someone will. And if it wasn’t me, you wouldn’t care. The Republic wouldn’t care.” Eva planted her hands on her hips. 

Theron had to admit she was correct. The Republic wouldn’t care about Rishi after this op was over, to be honest.

Unless he included her in the report. Then Saresh would be all too interested in the Voidhound again after this if he did, looking for a way to pull more service out of her in exchange for a pardon, a discount. He remembered that holovid conversation in his intel collection about her.

“It’s one thing to guess or anticipate that someone would fill the void left by the Novas and their trade routes. It’s another thing to guarantee it,” Theron replied gruffly. 

Eva hitched up her shoulders slightly. “Better the devil you know.”

Theron let his mind glide over all the grey areas they had already played in together. Not just the personal end. The real death of Ivory, for which technically she’d had a pardon years before she did it. The theft he’d let her get away with on Manaan…which had ultimately served civilian rim colonies that the governments had forgotten about. The Makeb scheme she’d enacted, with all the drugs, murder, and fratricide involved. He didn’t count the Imp Market as grey; that was a bloodless victory. The grave robbing near Rakata Prime – “research” that couldn’t be carried out by a museum in this galactic situation… and he had determined she actually had turned over the artifacts she’d promised, minus the fun ones she and her Mando had kept back. The destruction of the cyborgs right under Lana’s nose.

Theron wouldn’t have had this problem if he’d picked a devoutly responsible Jedi or a perfectly orderly trooper. 

But she had the ghost ship. But she achieved objectives. But she was something the Revanites (and the Empire, if they ever got out of this) could not anticipate. But neither of his other Pub-inclined choices would be able to sell this pirate thing to the extent she did. But she had taken care that nobody innocent got hurt.

Until now. “The drug trade and any other illicit thing you have in mind will have collateral damage, and you will be actively a part of that,” he sternly pointed out to her.

Another roll of her shoulders and a shake of her head came in reply. “That was always going to happen during any sort of transition. Me, someone else. At least you know there’s an endgame with my crew – Bowie, Corso, and Guss wouldn’t have it any other way. And Voidfleet won’t abandon this place after we’re done here.”

 _Like the Republic has_ , Theron could hear the unspoken criticism in his head. There weren’t even government-run drug and alcohol clinics on this planet, despite the high number of substance-related permanent disabilities, deaths, stillbirths, and birth complications. 

Rishi really was just census numbers to whoever possessed it. The Empire wouldn’t give it more care. Nor would the Hutts.

Theron stared down at his datapad, a snarl on his face. He didn’t like this. Lesser evil. Theron made those calls before – let something happen for the greater good. Nothing like some other people (Jace, Trant) had done, but still. Theron had the idea that “bad things happen when good men do nothing” drilled into his head as a youngling. It was de-emphasized at the Coronet City Military Academy and simply not mentioned during the course of SIS training – bad things had to be allowed to happen, sometimes. 

It turned out it was harder to make Theron a simple soldier than it was to make him a Jedi, even with all his limitations. It’s why he did what he did, even if it meant breaking protocol. 

But was the “do nothing” in regard to permitting Eva to do her work? Or was it insisting that the situation on Rishi remain the status quo? What was the Republic doing here? Nothing. Was letting Eva operate here the act of a good man, allowing a different action to occur for the first time in 300 years?

Was he doing something or nothing?

“Once you make it a bit more habitable around here, are you going to bring in the really controversial stuff?” he asked her.

Eva’s head tilted, waiting for clarification.

“Like datapad books, actual learning and medical facilities, and educational holofilms? And that’s not a euphemism,” he clarified.

Eva’s lips pulled into a thin smile. “As I said, I have some partners that insist on that sort of thing.” The smile disappeared as quickly as it came. “I don’t plan on involving you in anything I’m doing, extracurricularly. You just should know what --”

Theron took a step forward and cut her off. “Alert me if my asset is in danger – losing you makes my job a lot harder.”

Eva looked up at him, and he was suddenly aware of how close they were, again. “I know I’m not dealing with nice people. I’m telling you because the right hand should know what the left is doing. You don’t have to--”

“Make the call anyway,” he insisted. Theron let his gaze drift toward the pink skin that covered what little he could see of her left shoulder. “I think the line between your cover for my op and my op won’t be as neat as you hope it will be.”

It had been months, but she was still healing from being shot through by a high-powered blaster rifle, because of an op he put her on – not because of one her extracurriculars. That had been clear. This was going to be less so.

The op needed to happen. Her presence eliminated a lot of logistical nightmares for Theron and Lana. 

“I think you’re right,” Eva murmured. That presence was also now achingly close. He wondered about how her entire shoulder looked. Her face was perfectly angled—

Theron’s professionalism flared up at that moment. “We’ll finish this later. Lana’s waiting.” He turned to the silent T3 unit in the corner. “Go get her for me, would you?”

When he returned his eyes to her, Eva mindfully stepped back, an amused look on her face. He shrugged. “He’s already heard everything else going on between us.”

“Everything” didn’t just encompass the conspiracy.

**

From his bedroom window, Theron could see across the rooftops of Rishi, right to the warehouse where the Red Hulls were operating out of. He couldn’t help but glance out at it, even though the datapad in front of him contained far more useful information. Although he couldn’t access anything requiring a login, he could go through T3’s uplink to the _Thief_ and at least get up-to-date on basic galactic information without worrying about being traced. 

The meeting had proceeded swiftly thereafter. The alcohol distributor cover was deemed unnecessary; they’d save Theron’s one shot at successful forgery for another time. For now, the Red Hulls were to continue to integrate into the underworld of Rishi – basically, the entirety of the planet. The first clear day they had, caches would be taken out. If the slavery hub was ever found, it would be cleared out; Theron’s connection could remain on standby for the time being, with no need for the rouse of Red Hull participation in the slave trade. The contact was still willing to get those slaves off planet, with or without a cover.

Theron still couldn’t believe Teff’ith had taken his holocall _after_ SIS had hassled her at Olaris Spaceport. Granted, he’d disguised it as a call from one of her suppliers, but all the same—the fact she didn’t hang up at the sight or sound of him was surprising. He wondered how she’d caught wind of his current state – certainly not from Eva, or else there would have been a barrage of harassment about his romantic life, alongside the standard verbal lashings he got about his stupidity, his stupid clothes, and his stupid hair within the first five minutes of the call. 

It was good to know that she would still take his calls, even if she did mostly despise him. 

At any rate, the meeting ended with Lana scheduling for another one at the same time. There were only so many hours in a 20 hour day, and it seemed they’d all be cutting corners on sleep. Eva had tiredly affirmed the meeting, with a memo to T3 that naps were to be written into her next contract. 

Theron’s datapad buzzed. Incoming message from the _Thief,_ which was apparently relayed through C2 who was at the warehouse. 

_To: Spike_

Theron blinked. Oh, right.

_From: Fishman_

That one was more obvious.

The Holonet message had no text but a lot of stills from the warehouse. Theron had to admit, they’d set it up nicely. They’d concentrated the shipping goods to one half of the warehouse, leaving a wider open space for tables. Some seemed to be set up for credit-ante games: deliberately nothing serious. There was a make-shift bar in the corner, no doubt populated by the extensive holdings of _Virtue’s Thief_ until Port Nowhere sent out its errand boys…

If it hadn’t already; Theron was cognizant that Eva and Co. had spent well over a week prepping this.

The next few shots seemed to have been taken with some discretion; these people weren’t fans of surveillance for obvious reasons. It was darker, the lights dimmer, and a haze of smoke obscured parts of the room. 

Theron had to stifle a laugh at the next image. Smugglers were ridiculous. _She_ could be absolutely ridiculous. They’d set up a sort of queen’s table back against the wall of the warehouse, close toward the exit out to the docks, and there Eva sat, enthroned. There was no better description for the gaudy chair she was in and how it was slightly elevated – that, paired with the outfit, the context, and even the overdramatic makeup she wore for the role caused Theron to close his eyes and shake his head. She was having an animated conversation with Corso to her right, smoke puffing from the left side of her mouth on occasion, cigarette in her non-dominant hand. After a few stills, Akaavi leaned in from the left. 

The next few stills, the girls were gone. Theron assumed that they’d gone off to the docks to do whatever. There seemed to be a crowd heading that way.

As he reach the last still, he had to study it to register fully what was going on.

Oh, stars. Really?

The last frame Guss had sent him, Eva had taken a fighter’s stance on the docks. She’d abandoned her coat, leaving the self-tailored red uniform on her, her hair pulled up and away with the same bandana. She was circling around the far side of a circle, knife in hand. On the near side – not more than a few feet from where Guss had taken the shot -- was a rangy, tattooed man dressed in tones of grey, black and white, also holding a knife. His posture was more relaxed, more practiced than hers. His blade was –

Theron’s eyes went back to her – yes, he’d drawn first blood on her, right arm. 

Which explained why she’d swapped her knife to her left. 

Why was Guss sending him this? 

He didn’t need to see this.

Theron hesitated for a minute, discontent.

Then he wrote a response:

_To: Fishman_

_From: Spike_

_Need help over there?_

As he pressed send, Theron’s eyes went back toward the warehouse roof. Smugglers and extracurriculars.

He waited ten minutes. Then he got up to put his boots on, just as the datapad chirped at him. 

More holostills. Most of them were blurry, but there was one clear shot of Eva twisting away from the man’s blade, her own in a rapid downward ascent into the man’s thigh.

The next shot made Theron sigh, half in horror and half in relief. First, the horror: Eva was sliced up. Right arm, midsection right through her clothes, glancing blow on a cheek, and then her left shoulder, where Bowdaar was holding a now-brown rag against her arm. 

The relief came when he realized that they were now in the _Thief’s_ medbay, and Eva was gesturing with her right arm, toward her left shoulder, making some sort of joke about it at the camera, talking to Guss apparently.

Finally, a text message came through.

_She’s fine. He’s not. She still can’t feel that shoulder anyway, so she was able to finish him off after he stabbed her. BTW, the Void Wings are considering the Red Hulls’ offer of co-existence on Rishi. Will update in three days._

Theron sat for a few minutes just staring out the window, fixing his eyes up on the Rishi Maze rather than more terrestrial concerns for the moment. His mind darted back to _Traitors of the Water, Pilots of the Air_ ; one act of parlay during the opening scenes of the book was a blaster fight between the captains and their seconds. Whoever won had first opportunity to lay out terms of engagement for the rest of the negotiations. If one of the captains turned up dead, then the winner made demands, while the surviving crew had to make a certain number of concessions in order to stay in the same shipping lanes. If they didn’t wish to concede or negotiate further, then they vacated the area. Different weapons, but same principle. Eva had clearly won, but by how much wasn’t immediately obvious from Guss’s report.

Theron really needed to read another one of those books. For research purposes, of course; they’d at least give him a vague idea about how this whole Red Hulls ruse was going to be run. And he should really return the book that he’d unknowingly borrowed for months on end.

“Heh,” Theron heard himself in the warm night. Excuses. He’d caught himself making excuses to go out, for the first time in the weeks since they’d arrived on Rishi. 

He wasn’t going to miss her, now that she was here. 


	7. Rishi Op, Day 2 and 3: She Don't Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you got that lose, you want to kick them blues....  
> When your day is done, and you want to ride on....

**DAY 2**

_Ms. Jane Doe. Can you identify the person who is responsible for the crimes against you listed on the docket?_

_Yes._

_Would you please provide the name of the person, if you knew it and, if possible, identify that person if they are here in this court room?_

_That man. Darmas Pollaran._

_Have you previously identified this man for law enforcement?_

_Yes, I have named and identified him six times._

_Was there any other conspirator known to you by name? Perhaps not someone who personally participated in the crimes against your body, but someone whose name you heard, someone who was referred to regarding the broader trafficking operation?_

_No._

_Ms. Doe, you are under oath._

_I honestly only knew him by name. Him and Senator Dodonna, but that was over at the last trial, I thought?_

_Yes, that matter is closed. Was there anyone you knew by sight during the course of your captivity? Someone, again, who may not have been personally involved but you saw in passing or whose image you saw?_

_No._

_Feel free to look out at the court, those gathered here on the ground level and those up in the galley – does anyone look familiar?_

_I—_

_(A tugging of a sleeve, a look that relayed all that needed to be said)_

_Objection; the prosecutor has gone fishing. The defense refers to Ms. Doe’s repeated testimony on the matter that Darmas Pollaran was the only person she knew to be the perpetrator of all crimes against her body and against the Republic, aside from those already convicted. Must he continue to harry her and waste the court’s time?_

_Sustained. Prosecutor, move on—_

She jolted awake, nearly vaulting herself onto the floor of the cockpit. Whatever clothes she had fallen asleep in last night were soaked in now-cold sweat. 

She looked at the chrono; she hadn’t heard any noise from it. It was between hours. Too few hours for a night’s rest, but enough that she wasn’t going to be able to resume sleeping and still make the meeting as scheduled. 

A shower was in order. And it looked like her day from the day before would continue. She closed her eyes and frowned. She didn’t want it to be like this, but she just couldn’t—

Rain. There was a pitter patter persisting, drumming gently against the hull of the ship. She let her shoulders droop in relief. Jakarro wouldn’t fly, not today. So just get through the meeting. Not too much. No need.

Her effort to rise to her feet presented a reminder from the night before. Change the dressing on her left shoulder. Again. Then Eva’s eyes lit upon her trophy from the night before: a somewhat new tricorn hat. The former wearer was indisposed at the moment, and he preferred to offer a sartorial prize rather than a meal to the Red Hulls. 

Eva smirked as made her way to her quarters and her shower.

**

The meeting didn’t last long, as anticipated; the search for the slave transit locations continued. The wait for a clear sky continued. Eva’s operation to draw in other gangs appeared to be gaining traction; the Void Wings (of no relation to Voidfleet or the Voidhound) appeared to be the first to capitulate after their captains had dueled. Eva didn’t have any further intel on how the other guy was doing; they’d find out soon enough, probably tonight or tomorrow. 

The meeting ended as Lana went over to the small, Republic-issued caf machine that somehow, Theron had managed to steal and keep functional in his duffel bag all those months. She made a noise of dismay.

“Did it finally die?” Theron asked, looking over.

“No, unfortunately. But we are out of caf rations.” Lana’s calm voice belied her tiredness and her reliance on the stuff over the last few weeks; the Empire ran on a 24-hour chrono just like the Republic did, and it seemed like everyone on this op was really hurting from the loss of four hours.

“Eh, it’s my turn to make the run. Got a list of anything else we’re low on?” Theron stepped away from the planning table and went toward the make-shift coatrack that stood close to the entrance of the hideout. Lana gave an affirmative and grabbed a nearby datapad to update it. He easily disentangled a head covering that would obscure his face, though not suspiciously so; it was suitable for the semi-tropic weather of Rishi rather than arctic Hoth or desert Tatooine. 

Eva noticed his expression grow annoyed as he tugged on a very battered brown jacket – broken in and broken down to the point she saw the sleeve seam give way at the shoulder as Theron removed it from its holder. An audible sigh erupted. “Well, rest in pieces.” Eva gave the remains of the garment a cursory glance as its now-multiple parts hit the floor. It had been through more than a few rainstorms; the material wasn’t suitable for such a drenching, yet it looked as if it had seen a remarkable amount of service in the months since Theron had gone dark.

That would explain why his red jacket still looked fine when she last saw it. He hadn’t been wearing it, minus the one time he saw her. 

Theron stood in his off-white shirtsleeves, scowling at the outerwear that remained. That appeared to have been his last surviving piece; the rest appeared to be Lana’s outer robes and a very pragmatic ladies’ all-weather coat.

Say what you will about the Sith Empire; they knew how to dress _and_ they had quality tailors everywhere.

Theron gave one last sour look toward the jacket on the floor before he turned to ascend the steps to his quarters. She knew what he was going to sacrifice to the rains of Rishi.

Eva said aloud, “If you guys need supplies and creature comforts, we got a stash on the ship. We’re turning some of the surplus from old jobs at the warehouse as the daytime storefront. Rations, ponchos – stuff they need here, but the underworld keeps at high prices. Voidfleet already came through with a shipment to support.” A beat. “Save your swoop money. And Akaavi is blocking my movements on the local security cams.”

Theron looked at Lana. “I don’t think we’re in a position to be overly concerned about the origins of supplies – and this does reduce our exposure to the populace,” she rationalized. “Go.”

Theron gave her a nod and took the datapad from her. “I’ll be right back. Storm has dropped the temperature enough that going out without a coat would be more remarkable than the coat itself,” he said to Eva as he turned to head upstairs.

**

Upon his return, Eva had had to smile. There was that old faithful friend, the red jacket. She didn’t bother to hide it, and he didn’t pretend not to notice it. Lana dutifully kept her eyes on the computer screen.

From the absence of sound on the roof, there was a lull in the storm. As the pair left the safehouse, they started to weave through the back alleys as quickly as possible, trying to avoid the next deluge. “How’s the shoulder?”

Eva startled for a second and looked behind her at him as they continued to march toward the ship. Then she realized – “I swear to the gods, I will fire Guss one day.”

“Why not get rid of the holo cam?”

“It’s _my_ holocam!” Eva turned to look forward again so she wouldn’t trip over something. “And yes, the shoulder is fine. Still don’t have all the feeling back, which is normal for that sort of injury” – Theron already knew the details – “so getting stuck there didn’t hurt too much. Kolto fixed the rest of the slashes you probably saw. Superficial – I was more in danger of tetanus than anything important actually being stabbed.”

“Normally, I’d ask about the other guy, but I’m not, for the sake of plausible deniability. Same for most of whatever else you’re doing,” came his reply. 

“Makes me wonder what we’re going to talk about until Jakarro does his thing,” Eva replied flippantly.

“I have a few ideas.”

Now _that_ had her attention.

Just then, the sky rumbled ominously. They were out of time and still a ways away from the _Thief._ As the rain started to pour down around them, Eva ducked under an awning of a street eatery. Theron quickly followed. “I’m not sure if your jacket will survive out there for long, Theron.”

“Yeah, I like this one. I guess I’m stuck here with you.” Eva saw him smile at the prospect. “So you never did answer my question.”

Eva looked up at him, water dripping of her newly acquired tricorn. “Which was?” She hastily took her newly won hat off and shook the water away. Peering out at the storm, she hung it off the side of a chair nearby. They were going to be here for awhile. 

“What are you thinking now?” he asked again.

Eva decided “I want to climb you like a tree” was probably not an appropriate answer. 

“It’s fantastic to see you alive and well.” Eva finally let herself feel relieved, without worrying about what the Sith would read into it. Theron visibly relaxed as well. 

“I… did think of you,” he said quietly. 

“Same,” she reassured him quickly, a bit breathless. “Missed you.”

Theron nodded, eyes intent on her and only her. “I didn’t forget what we said before. About dealing you in.”

Eva let an anticipatory chill run through her. “And?”

“I need to expose this conspiracy. I need to complete this operation. I need to _not_ be a fugitive.” Theron’s hands reached out for hers.

Eva stepped back. “The first two I get. But the fugitive thing? Still?” 

Theron redirected his gaze into the rainstorm. “I have obligations I need to keep. Being a fugitive with you just makes those harder to fulfill.” His eyes came back to hers, still warm and focused but with a stubborn steel behind them. “You can call it an excuse. I need to be right with the Republic.”

Eva did not like it, but he’d never said otherwise. “You would do a lot for her. Exhibit A.” Eva made a grand motion toward all of Rishi.

“Yes, I would. You know that,” Theron calmly reminded her. He let out a short laugh. “I did come up with the pirate idea. Lana decided to make you cannibals.” Eva grinned as she saw him pull a very familiar book out of his interior jacket pocket. “Read this a few times while I was off the Holonet.”

It was the book she’d loaned him all those months again at Rakata Prime: _Traitors of the Water, Pilots of the Air_. “So I can only blame myself for this?” she teased him.

“Let’s go with that.” He smiled at her and the rubbed at his neck a bit self-consciously.

It took a moment for it to register on Eva, but when it did, a small spike of joy went through her. “You want the next one in the series, don’t you?”

“Can’t be on the Holonet all the time,” he answered all too quickly. He looked down at the book and slid it back into his pocket to protect it from the rain. “I’ll admit, it has its redeeming qualities, much like its owner.” His teeth caught against his lower lip, seemingly unsure as to whether that comment was too far or not far enough.

Stars. No wonder she’d gotten hung up on him on the way back from Port Nowhere. Eva couldn’t resist the impulse anymore, but she knew it had to fall within his rules. “Can you spare something for your fellow fugitive friend? I promise it’s not completely treasonous.”

Theron eyed her with some caution, his expression hedging between curiosity and worry. Then Eva took a small step toward him, arms open. 

Theron’s face softened. His eyes lit up, and Eva let herself bask in that light as he crossed the distance between the two of them. Eva wrapped her arms around his waist as his arms drew her close. “This one’s real too…” He said it lightly, but he was reconfirming it. 

“Yeah. Get used to it.” Eva closed her eyes. She inhaled his scent: his cologne, his pomade, a bit of his sweat, the small remnants of his aftershave that stubbornly clung after at least two days of not shaving. Then there was the strong frame of his body, lean and muscular. She could feel his heart and the heat from his body.

“You ok down there? You’ve gone still.” The rumble of his voice was another pleasure.

“Currently in paradise, come back later.” She felt his sudden intake of breath. “I mean, I could let go if you –”

“No,” he answered so quickly. She felt his arms readjust around her. “I—It’s – great. It feels great.” She felt his chin come down to rest on the top of her head. “We should just wait until the rain stops.”

“Oh, I agree. I love the rain.”

“I’m becoming a bigger fan by the second.” Theron let out a sigh. He seriously was enjoying this.

The rain pattered around them. The temperature still dropped gradually, further justifying Theron’s need for a jacket.

“I tried to re-ping your nav computer and found out you spaced it.”

“Thought I was dead for a second?”

“Yes.”

“Served you right for messing with a girl’s ship.”

“I figured it out.” Theron shifted his stance slightly. “You were always going to come, right?”

Her initial response was to be indignant, how dare he, wasn’t she -- and then she thought about a holostill of a boy who had been left in the lurch, suddenly alone. “Yeah. I don’t abandon my friends, I told you already.”

“Yeah.” 

He had needed to hear it. Eva didn’t press the conversation further. 

**

# Day 3

_She must have known something._

_I’m telling you, she knew nothing. I knew nothing._

_How can she sleep with him for over two years and not figure it out?_

_Shar, has it occurred to you that she’s not an idiot and that maybe he’s the Empire’s best spy?_

_She was on Port Nowhere at times when they weren’t—_

_He’s good at scheduling. That doesn’t mean she was avoiding—_

_How do you know she wasn’t? I mean, you’ve haven’t known her as long as he had. Maybe this all started before you knew her otherwise._

_Does it really hurt your Pub egos that he evaded detection for fifteen years? Does it fucking burn you up? If it does, you’re seriously venting out the wrong port._

_I don’t see how she wasn’t in on the con—_

_He conned me! He conned me, that’s how good he is. And unlike you, Master Jedi, I haven’t gone soft. I haven’t lost my edge. He conned me. He was good at what he did, better than the Republic, without anyone’s help, least of all hers. And until you can admit that and do something useful, you can forget this commlink. Both of you._

_(A hairy paw gently pat her on the shoulder, claws splayed to avoid any tearing or catching of fabric.)_

_She’ll get them to help, little girl. Just… just go to bed tonight. It will be better in the morning when you wake up._

_Wake up._

_Wake up._

_Wake up._

_Wake up._

“Little girl, wake up.” 

The hairy paw was real. Bowdaar was shaking her awake in the cockpit, rather frantically now. Her eyes struggled to blink open fast enough. “Am I late?”

“Not yet. You will be if you’re not moving soon. The pretty blonde lady already sent over the all-clear: the _Warthog_ is flying today,” Bowdaar told her.

She nodded, still shaking the dream off.

“You’re running yourself ragged,” he sternly remarked. 

“Part of the con, Bowie. If I’m going to run the underworld here, I have to be in it. I’ll take it easy tonight though. Feel like conquering a local cantina, adding it the portfolio?”

Bowdaar groaned. “What does Spike think about this?”

“Plausible deniability, given what we’re doing.” She stood up and started to pad her way to her quarters. “Who’s awake enough to go blow up some supply caches?”

“We already drew straws. Fishman lost.”

“Great. Have him ready to go in fifteen. Pack me some caf?”

“Thermos is on the galley counter, waiting.”

She gave him a nod as she swung into her quarters and shut the door behind her to get changed. It was as if a thick mist had settled in over her mind and she couldn’t shake it.

She’d gotten the spies their supplies. Theron got the next book in the series. He left with the supplies. The crew had done business at the warehouse. Check check check. Done. Came home late. Woke up early.

Brain fog. Happy things like seeing Theron fell away and descended into dreams she didn’t want. 

She had to wake up.

**

Eva and Guss made their way along the coast to the designated rendezvous site. The sun was already cutting through the early morning mists that had dampened the black sands. Their boots were caked with the stuff, adding a weighty ‘clomp’ to each step. “Think he’s sore about the name, still?” Guss asked nervously.

“Given the fact I ordered you to do it, you’re probably not the first person he’d be mad at. Then again –”

“ _The Warthog_ , I know.” Guss shook his head. “I could blame the other Wookiee for smashing my brains on his ship. Didn’t know what I was saying.”

Eva raised a finger. “Don’t tell him that. Just – just pretend it came from the bottom of your heart or something.”

“Way, way down there, that’s for sure,” Guss agreed. 

Eva had to chuckle. Then she decided to needle the Mon Cal just a bit. “So, Theron had to ask me how my shoulder was the other day.”

Guss shrugged. “I figured he was bored staying in that safehouse all the time, and it’s not like he can get the ladies’ jetz tournament or microdroid wrestling on the premium channels.”

Eva stared at Guss as they continued to walk. “You sent me getting stabbed to him as a form of cheap thrills?”

Guss paused for a second, blinking. “Yeah, it’s probably wouldn’t have been a good sign if he liked it. Well, at least you know he isn’t into that kind of thing.”

Eva couldn’t stop herself from bringing both hands up to her face and making audible contact with them.

“Oh, double-face palm. Sorry, boss. I’ll leave the holocam back on the ship from now on.”

“You do that.” Eva pulled her hands away from her face and scanned the horizon. At last, another XS light freighter was in sight. “If he reaches for the bowcaster, start running.”

Guss let out a whining noise, but stopped as soon as he was sure he was in range of Jakarro’s hearing.

Eva held up an arm to wave in greeting, and Jakarro responded in kind, the head of C2-D4 hanging around his neck. As they came close, he called out them. “Fishman! Space Harpy!”

“That’s a new one,” Eva murmured to Guss.

“He caught Bowdaar on comm yesterday; Bowie gave him a piece of his mind and a promise of death if he ever called looking for ‘little girl’ again.”

Eva had to smile. Bowdaar’s paternal panics always hit her in the heart. “He’s bigger than Bowdaar – what’s he got to be nervous about?”

“He’s still the Killer of Kashyyyk, Cap,” Guss reminded her. “The only one who seems to forget that is you. Then again, you’re probably the only one who never has to worry about that.” 

Eva decided that Guss was right, on that count.

Any further thought on the subject was shelved in favor of being briefed by Jakarro. “At last! You should know by now that it isn’t wise to keep the mighty Jakarro waiting!”

“This 20-hours-in-a-day thing isn’t exactly doing wonders for us,” Eva reminded him. 

Jakarro grunted in sympathy as D4 sighed in frustration. “Must you complain so loudly? There could be ruthless pirates or hungry wildlife all around us!”

“You should watch out for cannibals too. Apparently, that’s actually a problem around here,” Eva sneered at the droid.

“Well, I think I’m safe on that account, at least. Hopefully.”

Eva had a brief vision of T3 making growly noises over the comm at D4 at the first opportunity and she nearly burst in the laughter at the vim and vigor the little droid would put into it. 

Jakarro huffed in good humor. “I’ve heard of your exploits as the Red Hulls, Space Harpy. Sounds fun. Certainly beats hiding in the wilderness for three weeks with this metal man here.”

“I always need a bloodthirsty Wookiee on staff,” Eva offered.

“Two might be overcompensating, but if we’re selling the whole ‘we eat people thing,’ the more Wookiees the better,” Guss interjected. 

Jakarro huffed one more time before cutting to the chase. “Fun later. Business now. I’m not going to stand out here in the heat all day – I want to destroy these Revanite-loving scum-eaters.” 

Eva adjusted her hat on her head and settled into her standard at-ease position when being briefed. “Theron and Lana said you have a plan?”

Jakarro nodded. “You will mark targets in the supply cache.” He paused as he offered her a flare gun. “I will be circling in the _Warthog_. When the target is marked, I will blast it to bits.”

“For once, we don’t have to go charging in face-first,” D4 dryly informed them. “Please make sure it’s clear that this was the work of the Red Hulls. We need to keep up appearances, after all!”

Eva looked over at Guss. “Any ideas?”

“Got any paint? Red would be better, but we can always just draw the Void Wings’ symbol and ‘x’ it off – remind them what you did to their captain the other night,” Guss offered. 

Jakarro nodded and started to move toward the open doors of _The Warthog_. “What did she do to their captain the other night?”

“I got holos –”

“Guss.” Eva’s warning was swift and efficient. 

“He may or may not be dead,” Guss supplied instead.

Jakarro cast a look back at Eva and shook his head. “What an idiot.” He went back to get them their paint so they could tag any surviving structures.

**

It was long, sweaty work in the humid, sunny day that consumed Rishi, but it was done. With a satisfying blast, the last cache bit the dust. Whatever was left in this sector was either on fire or obnoxiously defaced.

Guss was dealing with the humidity just fine but Eva’s hair had taken on a life of its own; the deliberately botched perm didn’t help. She internally wondered how her mother had tolerated the natural curl in her hair without taking shears to it. Eva pulled her hair back for the umpteenth time that day, trying to contain it to the best of her ability. It always managed to escape her headband and stick to her skin. The rest of the uniform, despite the layers, breathed with her – praise military surplus – but her hair was her own problem. 

She eventually would forget this period of her life and think about curling her hair again. Such was the way of hair envy.

While Guss had scurried off with her permission to further degrade the local area, Jakarro sent a burst signal to indicate that he was done for the day – he had to refuel and land before dark, lest the crummy air traffic control on Rishi led to _The Warthog’s_ destruction. Eva thumbed her wrist comm link to send back a chirp. She adjusted the wrist comm to redirect itself through _Virtue’s Thief’s_ comm systems. With the boosted power, she sent a comm signal to the safehouse. 

“Intel to Captain, we copy you,” Theron’s voice came through clearly, with minimal crackling. Eva heard some shuffling in the background, and she assumed Lana had crossed the room to join the conversation.

“Don’t know if you guys have heard, but the Red Hulls just completely trashed a Nova Blade supply cache,” Eva gloated as she surveyed their handiwork. “I understand the main suspect is being described as ‘skilled and extremely attractive.’ Her trusty sidekick is probably off drawing phalluses on whatever is left.”

Theron stifled a laugh, and Lana sighed. “Is that really necessary?”

“I have never had a mutiny on my ship, and I plan to keep it that way – I let them have their stupid hijinks to blow off steam.”

Eva heard Lana sigh again, and Theron managed to reply, “Nice work.”

Lana’s clipped, efficient voice went back to business. “I believe one more assault on the Nova Blades’ holdings should be enough to solidify our ‘pirate feud’ and disguise our true goal. We have an update on another front, however.

Theron’s voice came over the comm link again. “You remember me saying that the Nova Blades basically run things around here? As you’ve gathered, for the most part, they’re pretty hands off. But if someone stands up to them or fails to pay their ‘fees’ to live here? The Blades grab them and ship them off to the slave camp. Many of the people that circulate in the slave trade are Rishi-born, not just tourists that are snatched off the beach.”

Eva felt a lump develop in her throat as she listened. 

_Where were you taken from?_

_Rishi, like the others._

_Were you on vacation?_

_No, I was living there. My children were born there, before all this happened…_

Why hadn’t she picked up the pattern then? It was the same for all them, married or unmarried, mother or child-free--

Eva realized she was drifting and tried to focus on Lana’s smooth drone. “The slaves are a substantial part of the Nova Blades’ income, both through their labor in the local exonium mines and as merchandise for off-world slave traders. According to our information, the slaves are kept on a remote island under heavy guard.” Lana paused here to take a breath. She seemed to consider her phrasing as well. “Do you think you can manage to free them?” came the cautious question.

There was only one answer to that question. “No one should have to suffer in slavery. I’ll take care of it,” Eva stated, resolutely. 

Theron made a low, small sound in his throat. Eva couldn’t decipher it over the audio-only commlink. “While I admire the good intent, we don’t know the island’s exact coordinates. We have a few options as to how to acquire that information. The safest, but possibly least efficient in terms of time, would be for you to tag one or more of the shipping containers with trackers and then follow the flow, hoping that at least one of them eventually circulates back to the island.”

Eva rebalanced her weight in her boots. “What would be more efficient?”

“From what I can tell – and this is highly speculative – the Nova Blades treat their slave containers like lobster traps: they check them a couple of times a day to see if anyone has been thrown in there, and if they have been, they move the container as soon as possible. The system avoids any direct, over-air communication about the slaves themselves. In that case, your best bet is to stow away in one of the shipping containers, then once you reach the camp, you can catch them by surprise, break up the security, and free as many as possible. I’m not a fan of this option,” Theron explained in his even, professional tone. 

_I was in darkness for days_. _Too hot to sleep. There was nowhere for waste --_

“Neither am I,” Eva replied, conscientiously keeping her voice steady. “The tracker route it is. I have a few trackers on me, but if you can get the crew to get out there and start tagging containers, we’re more likely to have a hit on this within the next few days.”

“Agreed. You can come back to base, Captain.” There was a note of relief in Lana’s voice.

Eva thought for a moment. “I copy. Say, you two feel like celebrating the recent expansion of Red Hulls real estate in Rishi? We’re probably going to be doing that after we tag containers.”

There was an extended silence on the other end. “Uhm. Maybe?” Theron offered. It seemed both of the spies were caught off-guard by this offer of extracurriculars. 

“Well, if you two are in the mood, I’ll see you at the Wolf’s Den. Captain out.” Eva clicked off the link and turned to look for Guss. She didn’t have much of a job to do – he had quietly seated himself on a crate a few feet behind her.

He blinked twice while looking at her, silently. Eva was about to ask him what his deal was, but he spoke first. “Captain, send Akaavi and Corso to deal with the slaves when the time comes. Or me – I’m not as weak as I let on, just lazy.”

Eva stared at him, brow furrowing, not comprehending.

“You shouldn’t do that job. Risha and Bowie neither.” Guss calmly blinked again. 

Eva scoffed and jerked her head toward their path back to Raiders’s Cove. “Business is business. We’re all professionals. Whoever goes, goes. And I’m always going. I don’t ask people to take risks I don’t.”

She heard him stand up and take several quick steps to catch up to her. “But some things are riskier for you than for others,” he insisted. 

She exhaled. This conversation needed to end. “Guss, stop pushing too hard on the zen Jedi thing. It doesn’t suit you. It doesn’t suit our business.” 

He grumbled behind her but said no more. 

She needed to refocus before they took the Wolf’s Den. She had to stop by her quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here my silly self is, trying to write this AND a happy Life Day fic at the same time. It's going... bizarrely. Ha.


	8. Day 3, Nightfall:  Gut Feelings and Full Stomachs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner with the Red Hulls doesn't go exactly as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting two chapters today to atone for me missing last week. I might have another done early this week to catch up entirely, but we'll see.

# Day 3, evening

The author was dying, Theron decided. 

He frowned as he gazed out his window toward the Red Hulls’ warehouse. He and Lana were due to meet the smuggler’s crew at the Wolf’s Den, one of the nearby cantinas. They were waiting for the signal to head out there, which T3 would send. For now, he tried to convey to his stomach to be patient; he didn’t want to burn through the new ration packs from the _Thief_ , especially if the food at the Wolf’s Den was as good as off-hand comments in encrypted transmissions had suggested.

Well, if he couldn’t finish eating through Coruscant or start Alderaan, he might as well mark off some places on Rishi. 

As he continued his vigil at the window, Theron knew there was something wrong here, and he didn’t know what it was. Yes, he had issues with knowingly permitting her to do her underworld business here. Yes, that was somewhat counterbalanced by her work to end the slave trade.

But there was something wrong with _Eva._

He’d noticed it when they’d had their discussion about the slave trade itself – certain tense reactions, the Voidhound appearing unexpectedly. As the meeting had continued, he found himself wondering where Eva had gone. Yes, she made all the right jokes and all the good points…but there was something _gone_ from her as the meeting got longer.

He hadn’t picked up on it initially. The discrepancy became evident when they went to the _Thief_ for supplies. Theron felt his face relax involuntarily as he thought of her in the rain, looking up at him, holding onto him tightly….

But when they got to the _Thief_ , it was like she was running out of steam… withering even as they pulled stock from the _Thief’s_ cargo bay, as he tried to make conversation. Theron admitted he wasn’t a great conversationalist, but asking about the crew – the people Eva would do anything for without question – resulted in sentences. Then a sentence. Then a few words. Then one or two words. 

Some spark was gone from her the longer they remained together. 

Maybe his duties to the Republic were a dealbreaker for her, and she made her choice as they pawed through cargo boxes. He ran a thumb over a seam of his new grey all-weather jacket. A parting gift?

Maybe she was just tired, he tried to rationalize – who wasn’t with 20-hour day cycles? 

Then again, the author might be dying.

When Theron was a teenager, he got into a Holo-book series that had been running for nearly 30 years. Even Jace had admitted to trying to read the first one when it was cool and hip (when Jace was cool and hip, well over 20 years ago). He had seen all the holofilms when he couldn’t get himself to commit to the reading the voluminous swords-and-wyrm series set in Wild Space. 

Theron didn’t like holofilms, so he devoured hundreds, thousands of pages. The last book was seemingly delayed, repeatedly, for at least three years. Then the author started releasing the notes for the book on his Holonet site with no explanation. They were in disarray and nonsensical at times. Sure, the prose had the same strong vigorous flavor of the other books in _some_ areas – there were key action scenes and the great resolution to mysteries. But like many authors, this one had jumped around when writing his grand finale. Sections were disjointed, and actions were seemingly without justification. New details sprang up about the characters that were simply unexplained. Sometimes, after the wonderful scenes and moments, the author just ran out of energy. The conversations became shorter and less in continuity with the rest of the series.

Finally, the news went public: the author was suffering from a degenerative brain disease that no medical experts – Imperial or Republic – had yet found a cure for. Then his obituary appeared.

The author had been dying. The last book documented the decline; he had good days – many of them. He started out strong in the mornings, it seemed. By the end of the day – by the end of his life -- it was clearly painful for both author and reader to plumb through the text, much like the visit to the _Thief_. 

Theron didn’t think Eva had anything fatal, but he was fairly confident she was burning out – on the job, on him, on them, on something that currently lay beyond his reach of knowledge.

The problem rested partially in the fact that she was playing a cover – one that required make-up and bad behavior and questionable associates and an extremely curtailed sleeping schedule. He could not observe whether there was an underlying problem or whether her behavior sprang from these circumstances directly. 

SIS protocol dictated that assets were prized for their information and their capability to succeed in operations. They were also, ultimately, disposable; agents weren’t expected to invest personally in assets.

Some did, in a most selfish way. Theron didn’t; he focused on the optimal way to serve the Republic, while always holding tight to the idea it was very difficult to extol the Republic’s virtues while getting assets killed or endangered.

That’s not to say it hadn’t had to happen in the past, or that the asset had strayed too far for Theron to protect them. 

Theron grimaced as he felt his datapad buzz. That was the signal to head out to the Wolf’s Den. He couldn’t deny that he had an urge to keep Eva on a short leash. What Theron couldn’t discern was whether it was a professional concern or a personal one. He knew that if his gut was at all wrong about there being a problem, she would break that leash without a second thought. She didn’t belong to any side but her own.

But Theron knew his gut was rarely wrong. He hadn’t advanced in SIS so far so fast, nor stayed alive this long without having good instincts. He might have had fewer scars if he’d ignored those impulses, but he also wouldn’t sleep as well as he did. 

Something was wrong with Eva Corolastor. For now, though, he had to meet with the captain of the Red Hulls and her merry crew and pretend he was nothing but a spacer with a potential drug habit or some other backstory that would be useful in this context.

**

Lana shrank back into her hood slightly as Theron led her along the streets to the Wolf’s Den. He apparently had heard it had some of the better food on Rishi. She wished she had his confidence to move through the street, face mostly uncovered as the orange and red skies gave way to purple, dotted with stars.

Lana also wished she had just a bit more experience in this realm of spy games before stumbling over a galactic conspiracy. Theron had been an operative since for over decade; Lana had been standard military, working on Hoth and and Taris and other planets with the Imperial troops. She was known to people, a prominent advisor; Theron had spent his entire career behind the scenes.

Theron knew her face before she knew his; he found her, identified her, and made it clear he was the true ‘spook’ of the two. Lana knew how resourceful SIS agents were and how devout they were to the cause; she’d had to dispatch 4 of them during the Talay initiative, and even the one who had broken under interrogation had earned her respect during their brief encounter. 

The final SIS agent – the woman – had stolen any victory the Empire had hoped for in the short term, but Talay’s conquest was inevitable. She knew it. She knew she would die for nothing, in the grand scheme of things, but she did it anyway. 

Theron struck her as the same sort of person, not that Lana planned or desired that fate for him. No, she would be reluctant to carry out orders against Theron Shan. That said, she didn’t understand the man. He made choices that seemed somewhat illogical to her, including his choice of cohorts in this grand conspiracy. The Voidhound – criminal menace to both Empire and Republic alike – he decided that this chaotic agent and her bizarre little cadre were the best operatives to pull this off.

To top it off, the Voidhound was nothing like Lana had anticipated, but she supposed that was the result of legend-building and deliberate misinformation to make her seem so much larger, so much older, so much more ….

No, she actually _was_ that threatening and dangerous. She was also as resilient and fierce as advertised. 

Lana had been shocked by how young she was…and honestly, how pretty. Stars, she’d felt foolish upon first meeting Eva Corolastor and feeling the tinges of a schoolchild’s crush --- _after_ Lana had referred to Eva as ‘inadequate’ due to her lack of professionalized training as military personnel or as a Force user but ‘surprisingly’ beating Lana’s expectations.

Marr was right. Lana had indeed taken on some of the foibles of being a Sith lord, including the arrogance, the superiority complex. Though she hadn’t taken on the distasteful trait of thinking less of non-humans due to their birth alone, she certainly had set the bar lower for non-Force users. Eva and her crew of humans and non-humans had blown that out of the water in their own, unorthodox way. 

The fact that Theron had not only kept his cover for months, just as she had, but somehow also had managed to keep tabs on one of the greatest criminals in the galaxy _and_ get her to Rishi also spoke of his skills. Or at least _something_ between Theron and the smuggler that Lana couldn’t quite put a finger on. The flirtation was obvious, but was it anything more? It was clear _she_ was interested in _him_ – most sentients would be; Lana had no issue in recognizing Theron’s looks, though they did little for her. But would he – no, ‘stoop’ was not the correct word. ‘Resort’ was another that conveyed some sort of degradation of the smuggler, who had proven herself to be quite something else. 

It was a matter of contradicting philosophies and ends, Lana decided as Theron pressed a hand into her shoulder to make her wait as a rambling crowd of drunks passed them on the street. Lana supposed the real test would be what happened at the end of this op – would Voidfleet take this Republic planet without a fight, or would Theron intervene?

Lana was ambitious, but not foolhardy enough to involve the Empire in a scrap over this planet. Rushing in here would be a waste of time and resources, especially at this time with the cult of Revan and Imperial resources still strapped from Eva’s little stock market jaunt. Rishi would wait til much later, in terms of Lana’s priorities. 

And her stance was conveniently substantiated as a body hurtled through the transparisteel front window of the Wolf’s Den about twelve feet in front of them, followed by a flurry of blaster fire.

Lana’s head snapped to the left as another body came crashing through. The Wookiee – Bowdaar – took one step over the threshold to point a claw and shake it at the two offending pirates. Her Imperial translator rendered it as “And stay out!”, although Theron started to laugh a bit as his Republic translators did their job. 

Sometimes, Lana did feel as if Sith arrogance in the technology sphere made her miss out on some rather good alien colloquialisms.

Bowdaar had continued to bark out something else that the Imperial translators declined to translate, but then he noticed the two figures patiently waiting at the edge of the building. “Oh. Hi.” The Wookiee seemed oddly sheepish, then held up a large hand. “Give us a few minutes. Getting a table.”

Calmly, Bowdaar walked back inside the cantina as several blaster bolts whizzed by his head. 

“Smugglers,” Theron muttered. Then he shrugged. “Got a blaster?” he turned to ask her.

“ A small one, yes.” Lana knew she couldn’t draw her lightsaber on the street, so she had packed her EC-17 holdout. “…I’m unsure how helpful I’d be with –”

“Let’s move this along.” Without another word, Theron shoved his off-hand blaster into her hands and ducked low, main-hand blaster drawn. He moved into the dim cantina, right into the line of fire.

Lana stood out in the street for a moment, listening the sizzle of blaster fire and the breaking of various objects all around her, awkwardly holding Theron’s blaster. 

She just wanted dinner, really, not a floor show. She had little choice in the matter; she was exposed if she stayed out here. So against her better judgment, Lana crouched down and carefully made her way into the cantina.

The scene was as chaotic as it sounded. Tables were upturned and made into makeshift fortifications as the Red Hulls fought a rival gang. Lana didn’t actually recognize many of the Hulls; Eva’s recruiting drive had been successful, seemingly. Through the hazy atmosphere – contributed to by both the blaster fight itself and the rampant cigarette use – Lana could vaguely see the Mon Calamari, Guss. 

A clatter ahead of her and to the right revealed Eva and one of the crew members she was not familiar with – a young man with noticeable scarring on his face with dark hair. The pair had just overturned a table, apparently retreating from a previous position. Lana could just barely hear Eva say, “Hey, Corso, you’re pretty hot.”

The young man seemed too distracted to perceive the double entendre. His stuck his head up to get a look at the rival gang’s position and nearly lost an ear for his trouble. “Uh, what?”

“You’re smoking –” Eva frantically looked around them for a moment, then seized upon an abandoned bowl and snuffed out the apparent fire that had started to creep up his pant leg. 

“Oh, thanks, Cap,” he finally answered, distractedly, still try to get a visual around the table.

Eva raised the bowl to check if the fire was indeed out, and seeing that it was, she flung the bowl over the table, where it shattered – whether it was hit by incoming fire or had successfully hit a mark, Lana could not tell. “You know, Corso, I waste so much banter on you.”

“I like it better than the stream of insults from Risha, so I appreciate it,” he returned. Eva cracked a smile as she peered around the edge of the table. 

“This dinner party apparently isn’t going as planned,” came Theron’s sardonic remark. Lana turned to find him across from her, one table behind Eva’s set position.

“So the Void Wings decided _not_ to be friends. I’m handling it.” A blaster bolt splintered the edge of the table by her head, and Eva shifted slightly inward toward Corso, not taking her eyes off Theron, who was looking fairly exasperated with her at this point. “It’s just taking a little longer than expected. And you showed up early.”

Eva turned back around to return fire, and Theron brooded for a few seconds before assuming a cover position. 

Emerging from the debris in front of them, Lana saw a Mandalorian in her helmet appear. Akaavi Spar, if her intel was still up to date. “Captain.”

“What do you think?” Eva asked as the Mando swung herself around to take cover just beyond Corso. 

“I think I should surrender.”

This struck Lana as odd, and for a moment, Eva’s face registered it as such. Then mischief crossed the brunette’s face. “You’re going to surrender.”

“Yes,” came the firm response. “I think that will end this quite quickly.”

“You sure about this surrendering thing?” Eva asked glibly. Lana dared to glance over at Theron, who must have heard this with his implants. He had; all he had for Lana was a shrug, though worry was starting to leech into his expression.

Mandalorians did not surrender.

Eva pulled on one of her gloves with her teeth, just enough to allow her to shake it off to the floor. Then she used two fingers to fire off a piercing whistle through the cantina. “Everyone back!” she yelled over the fray and chaos. 

As the various members of the crew – both smuggler and newly initiated Red Hulls – scrambled back toward her, a Bith crouched next to her. “What’s the deal, boss?”

“Mando over there is going to surrender.”

The pupiless eyes of the Bith blinked rapidly, and the ridges on his forehead became more pronounced. “Captain, you do realize I signed on with you because my lifespan was limited with Zykken –”

Eva waved him off. “Let the Mando surrender. You’ll make it home tonight.” Lana couldn’t help but compare the Captain to a cat, perched in anticipation, tail trembling slightly as the little predator waited for.. something.

Risha Drayen appeared and caught that unmistakable look as well. She nudged Eva with a boot as she slid in beside her, taking shelter from another wave of blaster fire. “Akaavi’s going to surrender.”

Risha, surprisingly, swallowed a laugh, though the silent amusement remained on her face.

Before she had a chance to say anything, Bowdaar managed to vault himself over the last of the barricades and Lana braced herself for a loud crash. But the Wookiee landed almost silently with a preternatural grace, crouching low and finding a place next to Lana to take cover.

“Should have ordered snacks before we started shooting up the place,” Corso remarked. 

“Snacks. We have food at home,” groused Bowdaar as he peered back down the darkened cantina. “Where’s Fishman?”

“Cowering somewhere – he’ll be fine.” Eva looked to Akaavi and jerked her head toward the battlefront – a silent command to get to work. Akaavi nodded, passing her blaster Eva as she crept by.

Lana watched as Akaavi of Clan Spar threw a flash-bang grenade in front of her. The blaster fire petered out as visibility became nil. Then she drew herself up to her full height in armor. “I surrender,” she called out loudly.

A second of silence, then a great wave of hushed chatter erupted. Akaavi began a slow walk forward. As the smoke began to dissipate, she cut an impressive figure in silhouette.

One of the Void Wings attempted to put on an authoritative tone. “Hey, you, uh… put your hands behind your head?” His voice inched upward at the end, making his demand more of a question. 

“Have her take off the helmet,” came another voice. 

“What does that matter? You got a kink or something?” Raucous laughter ensued. By this point, Akaavi had put her hands behind her head – but Lana could see agile, gloved fingers working away at something on the back of the helmet. 

Of course. Mandalorians don’t surrender. 

But working with a dishonorable smuggler for five years may have taught Akaavi more than one less-than-honorable trick. 

The Void Wings on the other side of the barricade of overturned tables and barstools seemed to be in conference at this point, unable to decide how to handle this. “Stop right there.” Akaavi halted where she was in the middle of the room.

“Take off the armor!” another voice called out, and more laughter populated the room. 

Lana could see no visible reaction from Akaavi, not even movement from her head. “Do you want my hands behind my head or not?” she replied coolly. 

Another discussion ensued, but this one was much shorter. “Show us your hands first.”

Lana turned at the noise of either Risha or Eva choking on a laugh. The two women watched their comrade quietly, smiles threatening to break out across both faces. Lana redirected her attention back toward Akaavi; she wasn’t going to want to miss this. 

Steadily in one smooth, slow motion, Akaavi let her arms flex at the elbow, the palms of her hands becoming visible to those in front of her. Twin beeping noises became audible. A harsh red glow reflected off the metal of Akaavi’s gloves, the light hazy due to the persistent smokiness of the room. 

Lana realized what they were as Akaavi effortlessly threw them toward the Void Wings.

The panic was almost immediate. “Thermal detonators!” Chaos on the other side of the room broke out, as whatever remaining furniture was hastily shoved out of the way as the Voidwing’s vacated the building. The Red Hulls seemed to be ready to act on the same instinct, but with a wave of Eva’s hand, the new crew members uneasily remained in place. 

Lana felt herself fight the urge to run and instead settled on a reasonable response of a force shield. She heard Theron groan in irritation and saw him twitch his jaw out of the corner of his eye – oh right, his implants and his hearing. Lana took the clue and covered her ears as well.

She was just in time; a split second later, the explosion ripped through the back of the cantina. Lana’s cloak flapped in the backdraft, only to be tacked down thoughtfully by Bowdaar’s foot. The building rocked unsteadily for ten, twenty, twenty-seven seconds. Lana watched the lighting fixtures in the rafters sway, dust sprinkling down upon the huddled figures behind their fortifications.

Then there was stillness. Lana’s eyes flitted around the room. Corso and Risha had clamped their hands over their ears, eyes shut tightly, lines forming on their faces. Bowdaar, next to her, had his hands over what she assumed were his ears, but his eyes were active, searching the darkness for Akaavi. Eva already had her eyes open and was already starting to stand up. Theron’s hand grabbed at her elbow, a nonverbal reminder to stay low. Lana could see the tensing of his jaw – likely reactivating his hearing implants, now that the great thunderous noise was gone. 

Eva did not have to move forward any further; Akaavi approached, her cool professionalism just flowing off of her. “Done,” she blandly said.

“Best sabacc face in the business.” She let out a low whistle as she surveyed the damage. A few quick gestures with her hands, and the new crew immediately set to work on setting the cantina to rights … somewhat. That was going to be a challenge, given the fact the back wall was blown out. Guss had reappeared by now and was peering out along the pathway near the docks, which branched in two directions. A small marina lay immediately in front of them. It actually was a rather nice view --

Just then, a Bothan stumbled out of a door behind the smoldering bar. Eva jerked her blaster so quickly that Lana almost didn’t see it make its way from her holster to her hand, but she maintained a control that kept her from firing on who was apparently the operator of the bar. Lana’s Imperial translator failed to translate any of the likely exotic curses coming out of his mouth. Judging from Theron’s expression, they were colorful and innovative. “What the kriff did you do to my cantina?” was the only coherent sentence that the translator managed to extract for Lana.

Xenophobic translators did have their downsides.

Eva thought for a second before replying with all too much cheer, “I got rid of your problem with the Void Wings. We’re the Red Hulls. Is the kitchen still open?”

The Bothan stared at her, seemingly not understanding what she said. Then his eyes caught sight of the now-missing fourth wall. His nostrils flared, and his fur seemed stand up on end as he walked toward the massive hole. More sputtering and incoherent noises erupted from him. Guss watched him for a moment before interrupting, “You know indoor/outdoor dining is all the rage on Trask. For Mon Cal, anyway – lot of rain. You get a lot of rain too but it eventually does stop. I think you should view this as an opportunity.”

The Bothan turned to glare at Guss, unable to speak anymore due to silent rage. With a nervous laugh, Guss held up both hands and steadily backed away from the Bothan, who then began a silent, shaking vigil over the hole in his back wall. 


	9. Day 3 and Day 4:  Greener than Expected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The official meet-cute for Bowdaar and Lana does not go as planned. This chapter has a warning for specific, heinous abuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second of two chapters posted today to make up for ones I missed over the holidays. I may post another one this week to set the schedule to rights. As stated in the summary, this chapter has a reference to disturbing past events. See note at the end for further explanation.

Lana was shocked when they _did_ actually have dinner. Credits and free labor from the Red Hulls – even as the smuggler and her cadre were eating -- smoothed over things, not to mention that Eva paid up front in hard currency for their meal. As they waited for the food to arrive, Lana surveyed their surroundings carefully. She, Theron, Eva, and Bowdaar were sitting at a table not far from the kitchen, eagerly awaiting their supper. Corso had sat there for a bit, but his discomfort around Lana – even when she smiled politely at him – had caused him to go investigate the decrepit jukebox that sat, half lit in a corner. Risha and Akaavi were at the bar, having their drinks and discussing something called a V.A.T. The pair looked over at Eva a few times during the course of their conversation, but it seemed not to be immediately relevant to this operation. 

Guss had somehow endeared himself to the Bothan, despite their rocky beginnings, and they were actively arranging an outdoor eating area on the dock pathway. The rest of the Red Hulls that had been recruited had cleared away the rubble and managed to either repair or replace the broken remains rapidly. It would be several days before Lana thought the place would be up to standard, but that was “several days” rather than “never.” 

Thanks to Akaavi’s stunt, the whole lot of them were able to dine in peace with no eyes on them. “You work quickly,” Lana commented as she saw the Red Hulls dragging in lighting devices to replace the old ones in the Wolf’s Den – still low, but fewer dark corners and warmer in tone. It was almost welcoming.

Almost, Lana considered as the lights illuminated a bloody blast darts target in a forgotten corner. 

Eva swirled the ice in her Sullustan gin and tonic. “I got a supply line, and I got bodies that like being paid for half the risk they were running under Zykken. It’s easy to make friends and influence people.”

“What is Void---” Lana’s question was cut off by Bowdaar swift hand across her mouth, claws carefully spread to not cut her. Lana stared up at him and then at Eva.

“We don’t talk about that here,” Eva simply said, eyes sharp and alert, then Bowdaar took his hand away. “I’m just Captain of the Red Hulls, the most fearsome lady pirate in the galaxy – and the newest.”

Lana glanced over at Theron, who had watched this entire exchange silently. Then he asked Eva, “What makes you think the Wings aren’t going to come back to you over this?” He took a sip of his Corellian whiskey.

Eva held her drink with one hand, counted her fingers on the other, and had one foot kicked up on a neighboring chair, which had been vacated by Corso a few minutes before. “I’m pretty sure I killed their captain, suggested by the lack of brain cells we saw tonight. I have a Mandalorian who knows what she’s doing – Akaavi should take most of the credit for getting the Hulls in line and to work. And we’ve proven we can destroy a place and rebuild it in less than a night. Superior organization, group cohesion – they’ll think twice.”

There was a momentary dimming of lights and a terrified yelp. The table’s occupants turned to see what had caused the power drain. Corso lay sprawled about three feet away from the now-dismantled jukebox. “I found the short!” he explained when he realized he had an audience.

“Corso, I know you know everything there is to know about small arms, but jukeboxes?” Eva turned in her chair, propping her chin on the back of it.

“Can’t dance if you don’t have music.” Corso smiled at her and got back to his project, pointedly making contact with an unattached piece of metal before sticking his hands back in the guts of the machine.

Bowdaar grunted over at Corso. “He’s the four-time Margengai glide champion – don’t let the lanky body and the constant slouch fool you.”

“And the Boxnov-three step champion,” Eva added.

Bowdaar scoffed, “He beat a bunch of octogenarians for that one.”

Lana almost sputtered into her Menkooro bourbon when Theron quipped, “They had sixty more years to practice.” Bowdaar huffed in good humor and Eva laughed. Theron let a lopsided smile cross his face. “Are you his partner in these competitions?”

Eva shook her head. “No, that is Risha or his cousin Rona, whenever she’s in town. I don’t—” Her lips quirked. Whatever expression Theron had made at her was gone by the time Lana’s eyes went back to him. “You know.”

Now she had some _real_ questions about all those times Theron completely disappeared off the radar. 

Before she could press the matter further, their food arrived. Theron had decided to go for the famed grilled seafood tower of the Wolf’s Den, and indeed, it lived up to the billing visually: it had to stand at least three feet tall, each layer specially heated to best suit each kind of indigenous seafood on Rishi. Lana could vaguely identify crustaceans, various types of fish, oysters and clams of some variety, and even some creatures she swore were still … moving. 

Theron ran his eyes over the massive tower once. “I have to admit, I might want some help on this one.” His enthusiasm for new food did not waver for a second, however. 

Eva unrolled the flatwear from her napkin, which had been hastily folded into the shape of some native bird by the owner. “So y’see, this is why I didn’t order anything to eat; it’s not just because I’m alcoholic.” With that, she speared some sort of scallop-looking piece of meat and dragged it back to her plate. Theron gave her a look, then let a small grin cross his face as he dug into his side of the seafood tower.

Bowdaar huffed again, shaking his head at Eva’s jest. He was served a large whole shark, minus the head, but it was beautifully arrayed across the plate, which took up most of his end of the table. Lana had settled on a crab bisque with a large crabcake to go with it. 

By the end of the meal, she had to admit, despite Rishi being a backwater, the Bothan knew his craft. “I think this is the best thing I’ve had since before I took my leave of absence,” Lana sighed, leaning back in her chair. She’d cleaned her plate.

“Bowie, would you hate me forever if I kidnapped him and let him run our galley freely?” Eva asked plaintively, staring at the remains of the seafood tower. She looked as if she wished to continue on, but there simply wasn’t any more room. 

“Only a little,” the Wookiee muttered back, his shark cleaned down to every individual bone. 

Theron sighed, and he scowled at the remains of the tower that taunted him. His pace had slowed considerably, and he inevitable reached the same point as Eva had. “Don’t think it’ll keep longer than a day in the freezer unit,” he remarked sadly. 

Eva gave him a tap on his bicep. “The _Thief_ has better freeze systems. If you can trust us _not_ to eat it, I can take it from here.”

Theron nodded, and Eva looked around in order to flag down someone still around. The barmaid saw her and came over with to-go boxes kept under the bar, leaving Akaavi and Risha to fend for themselves temporarily. As the woman collected the remaining pieces of cooked seafood from the various layers of the tower, metal caught the lights in the cantina, causing a tell-tale glint on her neck. 

A slave collar.

Lana saw it.

Eva saw it as well, and the relaxed, convivial mood that Eva had cultivated during the course of the night vanished. Her face set itself into something just shy of anger, but the eyes – the eyes _burned_ with it. Eva reached into an interior pocket and left hard currency on the table. Before the woman could object, Eva rose to her feet. “Management issue. I’ll be back.” She made a beeline toward the kitchen, the door swinging both ways before being locked from the inside with an audible magnetic bolt. 

The woman stared after her, then hurried swept the money into her apron and finished packing up the seafood and hastily leaving it in front of Theron. She nervously retreated to the bar, waiting for whatever came next.

Theron gave Lana a questioning look; he had not had the angle to see what had perturbed Eva. “Collar,” was what Lana simply offered. Theron absorbed this, then drew back in his seat to wait for Eva’s return.

Bowdaar had seen the collar and heard Lana’s explanation to Theron. His eyes lingered on the kitchen doors for a moment or two moment before returning his attention to the table. Lana was surprised when he spoke to her. “I work with her because of these things. What she does when there is no profit.”

Lana nodded. Wookiees were known for their sense of honor throughout the galaxy. “I can understand your admiration for your captain in that matter. Despite the opportunities presented by sentient trafficking, she’s declined to participate and in fact does her best to break those systems, at a cost.” Lana paused for a moment, then pressed forward. “It is not what I anticipated when I first started to work with smugglers.”

Theron ‘hmm’ed’ and then began to tend to the dregs of his brandy. 

Bowdaar cast another look at the kitchen doors before replying. “She is not like most smugglers, much like how you are not like most Sith.”

“I like to think of myself as my own woman.” Lana looked over at her long-empty bourbon glass. No, no more tonight – she did not want anything to disturb the warm, full feeling her dinner had left her with. 

“For a Sith Imp, what does that mean?” The question was remarkably blunt, and Lana began to actively consider secretly replacing her translator with something more xeno-friendly. That, or she had best start learning Shyriiwook.

“In brief, I’m not opposed to working with sentients not like me.” Lana chose her words carefully, pointed glances directed at Bowdaar, an alien, and Theron, a non-Force User. “I have my moments, according to my superior, but I do try to pay attention to individual merits. I like finding the truth of things, not the convenient interpretation.” Lana let herself look at Bowdaar and then Theron again, silently offering another point: not opposed to working with the Republic or its allies for the sake of that truth. 

Bowdaar reached for his water glass and took a drink, the vessel almost comedically dwarfed by his large palms. “You look for individual merit. What do you do with your slaves?”

The question caught Lana off-guard. “What do I do in relation to the slave trade?” she asked, trying to clarify.

Bowdaar nodded.

This must be some sort of test, she determined. The truth seemed to be most suitable here, then. “I don’t engage with it, personally. I personally don’t own any. My parents were entrepreneurs on Dromund Kaas, and they always had their own paid employees. However, as you know, my home government is very much committed to the use and spread of it. I must participate as required by my orders.”

Bowdaar took a some time to consider this. “You enable it?”

“I try to avoid it, but it is not always… feasible in my line of work.” 

Theron took a deep swallow of his brandy, acting as if he had not heard or seen anything. Lana knew that, maddeningly, she couldn’t determine whether he was completely engrossed in this conversation or reading the Holonet through his implants and pointedly tuning them out. 

Bowdaar moved his glass across the table, thinking. “You consider individual merits. What merits do you see in slaves?”

Lana knew she probably should have read the Killer from Kashyyyk’s file before fleeing her office. The Drayen heir had been an obvious read, as had the failed Mon Cal Jedi and the Mandalorian that had defected. She’d passed over Bowdaar and Corso Riggs – failed to prioritize them. 

Another lesson in spycraft learned – always read all of the files, or at least enough to grasp what traps lay ahead in any conversation with them. But she did know one or two things about Bowdaar and how he came to be in Eva’s crew. “Are you familiar with the Empire’s emphasis on the Sith and the Sith Code?” Lana couched her question in such a way that any random eavesdropper wouldn’t immediately affiliate her with either entity; she’d learned to leave her lightsaber and her allegiances at home on Rishi.

Bowdaar grunted. “I don’t play in things beyond my understanding.” 

“What you _do_ need to understand is that all life in the Empire runs on the Sith Code, far more than the Republic runs on the Jedi Code. It applies to both Force users and non-Force users alike,” Lana pointed out. Bowdaar tilted his head and silently asked her to continue on. “While the Jedi Code demands peace – being content – the Sith code expects Force users to use passion to gain strength. Through show of strength, power is gained. With power, victory can be achieved. All that culminates in the breaking of chains. This is why, in the Sith Empire, a slave can become a member of the Dark Council, such as Darth Nox.”

Bowdaar stared at her silently for a moment. “And what if a slave has no Force talent at all? Is there a way out?”

Lana pursed her lips. “The path is much harder, but I do not think it to be impossible. You’re an example of that—”

And Lana knew almost immediately that was the _wrong_ thing to say to Bowdaar. He did not roar. He did not flip the table. He did not rip her arms out of their sockets, as Imperial sergeants so liked to tell gullible privates and corporals. No.

He leaned in to speak to her quietly. “I suffered a hundred years fighting for the amusement of your kind – not for honor or pride or justice or credits. The blood of thousands is on my hands, and I have nothing to show for it. The path is hard?” The translator assuredly rendered that as a hypothetical question correctly; he continued. “The _cost_ cannot be measured. When I was taken as a child, I was altered to be ‘more handleable’ or ‘less aggressive.’ Their procedures failed, but if you ask me now why I stay with my little girl, it is because she is the only small one I can call my own.” 

Lana felt herself freeze up, her heart skipping critical beats. She tried to object and explain to him what she meant by that, that she didn’t mean to disregard his experience, that ---

Then Bowdaar stood and smoothly took the to-go boxes out from in front of Theron and left the cantina. 

Anxiety swept over Lana as she sat in her dining chair in the Wolf’s Den. She cast a look over at Theron, who looked back, calmly. He said, “I once asked Eva over caf what Life Debt she had on Bowdaar. She said there was none. That explains that. Add it to your file.” Theron examined the bottom of his empty glass before shoving it away, watching it slide easily and then stop at the perfect center of the table.

In that moment, Lana felt every inch the inexperienced and awkward intelligence operative she feared she was. She _still_ wasn’t ready to do this yet. Without the Force to serve her, she knew she would have been found out months ago, even as late as a few weeks ago when she foolishly forgot to take off her lightsaber before going out in Rishi. Lana could have evaded this conversation, but no, she wanted truth and by the Emperor’s Ghost, she had gotten it. 

It would have been easier if Bowdaar had been brutal in his words.

It would have been easier if _she_ was more brutal in her attitude toward aliens. 

Neither scenario was true. Lana wanted to go back to the safe house _now_. “Excuse me,” she murmured to Theron as she stood up and walked briskly out. As soon as she was out of sight of the cantina, she broke into a run, pouring her focus into the physical exertion rather than giving any attention to her silly desire to cry. 

**

When Eva emerged from the kitchen, she immediately noticed that her table party was decidedly smaller than when she left it. Bowdaar, Lana, and the leftovers were gone. Theron seemed to be contemplating their empty glasses, now clustered at the middle of the table. Eva returned to the table, reaching for a chair to turn around and straddle. “What happened?” she asked as she sat herself down.

Theron didn’t answer her immediately. He looked at her an acknowledged her presence, but he seemed to be lost in thought, his exact expression inscrutable.

Eva took the path of teasing. “Come on now, the crew has a betting pool on those two. I need to figure out whether we’re paying out to Risha. She said it would be drinks at the bar.”

Theron cracked a smile, but it was quickly muted. “The conversation started after Lana saw the slave collar.” 

That explained everything.

“Ah.” Eva let the smile slip off her face and sank slightly deeper into her chair, resting her chin on the back. “I take it Lana… is not on the same page as we are for obvious reasons?”

Theron nodded once. “Not a strong-held personal belief but she believes in the institutions. She also missed some key parts when she read Bowdaar’s file, apparently. And he divulged some information that isn’t on there.” The olive-gold eyes swerved from the glass toward her, and she met them with ease.

Eva held his gaze for a moment before blinking. “You understand why I couldn’t even pretend to be a slaver, then. Not for a second.”

Theron bobbed his head again. “I don’t think he’s upset at her. I do think she just got a bit of a reality check -- life beyond the Empire’s hierarchy is very different.”

Eva listened to and watched Theron. In the quiet, he was more relaxed, but the way he spoke made him sound so old at the same time. She considered it must have been a consequence of playing spygames since he was 16 – something that Lana likely had not done. 

Eva wondered whether she came off like that – old -- sometimes. She became who she was when she was 16 too. “You’ll be happy to know that our Bothan friend no longer owns any slaves. We came to an agreement about wages and housing for our barmaid over there. Also, lots of surveillance – to keep the cantina safe, of course.” 

“Of course,” he echoed, and this did coax a genuine smile back out on his face. It was still tempered by the heavy conversation, but Eva could tell Theron was pleased that one more woman was free. 

“Buy you a drink?” Eva offered.

“My turn,” Theron countered. The two of them wordlessly decided to get out of the way so the table could be cleaned and moved to take their drinks at the bar. 

“And then my place or yours?” Eva boldly asked as they sat down on their bar stools.

Theron guffawed, and she swore she saw his skin flush slightly – might have been the lighting though. “I go to mine, and you go to yours. You know what I said. I got rules I follow.”

A “yeah” was offered in response as the barmaid got their drinks ready. As she waited, Eva idly wondered how far those rules went – how many bridges was she going to have to cross before he let her into his game. He’d said he wasn’t jerking her chain back on Katalla. And yet ---

_Just stop thinking and have a drink with the handsome man next to you, kid._

Eva took that inner voice’s advice, and the evening finished pleasantly – not quite the way she wanted, but better than Theron’s visit to the _Thief_ ;

This time, she could still remember the conversation the following day.

**

# Day 4, morning

At some ungodly hour, Eva heard her commlink buzz. No, she was not waking up yet. No, she refused to be up for the day. She reached for it on the dashboard, not opening her eyes yet until it was about three inches in front her eyes. 

Through eyes that were barely slit open, this was the morning status report from Lana, who seemed no worse for wear after her failed get-together with Bowdaar. No adequate intel on the slave locations yet – the trackers had moved but not to any final destination. Eva and the Red Hulls were to continue their other activities for today.

Grand.

Eva let the commlink drop to the floor with a clatter and went back to sleep. 

_She was onboard without remembering her feet moving. Hands were pulling off her guise with care, extracting her from the shell of the Voidhound. A perfectly warm cup of tea was pressed into hands and she was sat down, firmly, at the lounge table._

_They spoke as if she wasn’t there. She wasn’t, minus a few tenuous threads that enabled her to listen and drink her tea._

_“I don’t understand.”_

_“We got fooled.”_

_“But – what he did – to her –” The voice was uncharacteristically high, and Eva’s dread blossomed. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. I’ll cry harder._

_“There weren’t any signs.”_

_“He was always good to her – I never heard or saw anything –”_

_“She never said anything that worried me.”_

_A grunt and a series of puffs contradicted the other speakers. “No. Remember Hylo.”_

_There was a moment of clarity in the room. “And the kid. Trick. He was angry. I heard him –”_

_He only dared to hurt defenseless things._

_She was no defenseless thing, not then and most certainly not now._

_But…._

_“Hylo.” Her hands shook as she tried to bring the tea cup to her mouth. The saucer caught the drops until an overly large hand delicately gripped the china in its claws and steadied her._

Or tried to. She ultimately needed a little help. Then dreams stopped coming.

# Day 4, nightfall

Someone was lying. Theron was stumped as to whom. One candidate didn’t make sense. The other was, in theory, impossible. 

Even as he delved deeper into a data dive in a remote SIS database – something that hadn’t been tapped in ages – his brain replayed a conversation from the night before over one last round of Corellian whiskey and Sullustan gin.

_“I have to update your intel.”_

_“Oh?”_

_“You mentioned you and Lana couldn’t log into your old work credentials. Neither could the droids?”_

_“Mmm?”_

_Leaning in close, careful not to speak too loudly._

_“T3 still can. I don’t know if A7 can. He’s been pulling SIS database information for us to…made some transactions safer for my crew.”_

_A hand purposefully weaving its fingers into her hair and pulling her close so he could mutter into the top of her head. They’d look like tipsy, would-be lovers._

_“Is it cyber espionage when an authorized droid uses the information for a cover for job that will eventually be legitimized?”_

_“I’ll leave the ethics questions to you.” A hand to his chest, getting as close as her barstool would allow. “But based on what T3 said, he couldn’t find anything on the Nova Blades I didn’t already figure out. You might know better – he said he wasn’t your droid when you were doing your thing on Coruscant.”_

_“No. I’ll check.”_

_She pulled away, something perfectly appropriate and yet something he didn’t want quite yet. “Are you having a good night?”_

_“Best night in a while. I’m sure no one is looking at me for once.”_

_“Except me.”_

_“Except you.”_

That warm feeling in his chest hadn’t dissipated by much, long after his liver had filtered out the whiskey, long after his stomach had processed all of that delicious seafood.

The problem remained: Eva had mentioned that she’d set T3 on a task to find information on the Nova Blades. He had reported back that there was nothing.

But there was something. Theron was staring at it right now.

It had been appended to a case that was sealed – circumstantial evidence that was unable to be submitted in the court. Theron couldn’t determine the case number, no indication of the defendant – the scrub on the files was excellent – perfect-- and without _his_ personal credentials, he couldn’t pry the files open. He couldn’t even figure out the date of the case – when it was, where it was. All he could tell was that it had seen the highest courts in Coruscant. 

Either Eva had lied about there being nothing – which seemed stupid, since she knew he would actually check, and in fact, she’d _asked_ him to do so – or T3 had lied.

Lying was not in droid programming. “I cannot process this request” or “I am unable to carry out this request due to my programming” were the default answers for SIS droids who were compromised or captured. The final resort for them was a self-destruct. Lying wasn’t part of the programming provided by SIS.

Eva might have given him the ability to flim-flam and deceive slightly or mislead – but what Theron was seeing was a bold-faced lie, something that was absolutely not true. He knew Eva had skill in droid programming, but in order to actually make the droid _lie_ , her tinkering would have made T3 self-destruct. 

T3 was still here, so Eva hadn’t meddled that extensively with T3’s programming. She hadn’t lied. There was a glut of information on the Nova Blades that T3 had not reported to Eva despite her request.

Theron knew he was standing, toes against the main computer in the Rishi safehouse. In his mind, he was sitting with crossed legs, piles of flimsi files around him, trying to piece the mystery together. And what was this court case he was looking at? Obviously, it was about the Nova Blade slave trade, but it was so sealed and so censored that ----

An abrupt buzz brought him out of his mind palace. It was urgent, and he began his emergence from his deep dive. 

Lana’s voice floated to him. “Theron, that sounds awfully important.”

“I know, I know, I’m disengaging. Trying not to leave any doors open behind me.” Theron would be quick, but never at the cost of being careful in this case. The op was in motion, and his haste wasn’t going to screw it up.

As soon as his eyes were able to focus on the world around him – the safehouse at Rishi – Theron drew up the message that had nearly rattled his datapad right off the table.

_To: Spike_

_From: Fishman_

_No holos this time. VW friendly. New guys: the Bluebarbs. Living up to their name._

Bluebarb wasps were known for their poisonous properties – enough of their venom could kill someone with the right sensitivities, or at the very least make them quite sick. 

Theron paused before replying. What did they want _him_ to do?

_To: Fishman_

_From: Spike_

_???_

Theron consciously kept himself from fidgeting as he waited for Guss to reply.

_To: Spike_

_From: Fishman_

_EC needs a hot date. Mandos aren’t made of beskar inside._

Theron's mind snapped the pieces together, and he took the stairs two at a time to hastily scramble together some sort of Rishi wastoid costume in his room. He didn’t hear Lana’s question.

Akaavi was poisoned -- Eva was in danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be clear: "Altered" is the polite way of sterilizing an animal, which is what Bowdaar was thought of. In male animals, this is often thought to curtail aggression and make them more 'tameable' -- as Bowdaar said, it did not work on him as well as his captors had hoped. In the real world, eunuchs were common in imperial and elite courts all the way to the 20th century for various purposes: guarding women, political punishment of a family, and (if done before puberty) singing for their patron's entertainment (castrati). 
> 
> As for Lana: it's very easy to think of slavery as an institution and divide that from her personal beliefs. However, dealing with formerly enslaved sentients that are not human or at least near-human (Chiss, Zabrak, etc) is something she hasn't often had to deal with; Wookiees, Trandoshans, and Cathar would be subject to greater brutality and even more comparisons to animals. Even in slavery, there tends to be a hierarchy as to how different species are viewed and treated. Lana is intelligent and compassionate, but it's one thing to know things in abstract or impersonally; it's another to see a living product of abusive systems that she is involved in....and she want to be friends with him. Not everything is going to click magically.


	10. Day 4, Night:  Risky Rishi Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smug life isn't glamorous. People do adult stuff here, like hard drugs. There are men with bad intent. Sometimes, scheduling life around deliveries gets messy. 
> 
> This is an awful lot of trouble for a cannibal pirate gang cover story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning here for reference to miscarriage.

Eva’s commlink jingled her assigned tune for Akaavi. She held up a hand, pausing the conversation she was having with one of the larger dealers in Raider’s Cove. “Sorry, the Mando in charge of my security just messaged me – she normally doesn’t, if you know what I mean.” 

He was pretty. Dirty blond hair, hazel eyes, skin over-touched by the sun. He was young, too, but smart enough not to get entangled in his own supply chain. He was also shrewd; _he_ approached _her_ before his customers decided to make friends with her directly. She didn’t know his name – didn’t need to. She knew his face now and Tomoto or Risha could take care of the details. 

_To: EC_

_From: ShriekHawk_

_We have vinegar. Stick to your usual._

Eva smiled up at her companion. “Nothing to worry about. Minor issue up front. Let me just text her back.”

_To: ShriekHawk_

_From: EC_

_Who had a taste?_

Eva completed her message, then turned her full attention toward the dealer. “As I was saying, Captain, I can see a future cooperative between the Red Hulls and the Bluebarbs – they’re here this evening, after all, curious about you. I mean, you’ve been here, what, two or three weeks? Already the Scoundrels dance to your tune and the Void Wings have given up any token resistance after the last night.”

Eva almost snorted but checked the impulse. “We blew out the back of a cantina to put down that ‘token,’ I’ll have you know.” She eyed the black glitterstim packets she’d set out on the table. “Think the Barbs will be the same?”

The man adjusted the sunglasses that perched on his head. “Hard to say. They’re more clever than the Wings, better organized, less likely to lose their head even if you take theirs,” he said pointedly. “I’d say be careful; any opposition to you won’t be open or obvious until it’s already too late.”

“They’re well-named.” Eva reached for her glass and took a sip of her Menkooro bourbon – Lana had it the other night and she figured she’d give it a shot. “Relatively small gang here, but they sound like they are quite deadly, like their namesake.”

“Glad you approve.” His fingers fiddled with the hook of his sunglasses, just behind his ear.

A slight movement on his part, and that was what she had suspected. Dealer, her foot. He was the captain of the Bluebarbs after all, and he had a tell. Eva took another sip, letting her eyes relax. “So do we have a mutually beneficial deal, then?” she asked, feigning ignorance. “Red Hulls supply at a reasonable wholesale price, and you stop messing around with whatever passes for ryll around here. You profit. Then you do your very, very best to improve our reputation among the Barbs?”

The man’s eyes flickered toward the glitterstim on the table. “I think I could seal that deal. But in defense of my own product, not all ryll on Rishi is substandard.” Reaching into his vest pocket, he tossed a small packet onto the table.

A cursory glance was enough to tell Eva that _this_ was the sort of ryll she would want to run around here, if she wasn’t thinking in a different direction. “Personal supply,” he offered as explanation. “Something I got as a treat. We could finish up the night with it.”

Eva let the liquor swirl in her glass for a moment before replying. “Making glitteryll with you sounds fun, but maybe at a later date.” Her lips curled suggestively. 

He persisted with a charming smile. “We could have some of the vintage I sent over to your table. I don’t think you had a taste of that yet.” 

“Can’t say I have.” The word _vinegar_ flashed through her mind. She reached for the glitterstim on the table. “How about we finish business here with an evaluation of the goods, then make our way back outside toward that wine? I think we have time to have a good night.”

Eva used the excuse of checking the chrono on her comm link to silently forward Akaavi’s message; she had not received a reply yet. Someone had to know. 

As her business partner/gang rival indicated his assent, Eva took two opaquely packaged doses from the larger pack. “You know this is the real thing because of how it’s packed. The fakes forget the details.”

“It’s fancy dirt if it sees the light – I know,” he replied, extending a hand to take one of the doses. “You won’t mind if I ask you to go first?”

Eva shook her head. “No. I wouldn’t sell something I wouldn’t take myself – dead customers are bad business, after all.” 

The opaque packets of glitterstim were specially designed to go from the darkness of its container directly into the nose of the user or an opaque syringe to ensure quality. It wasn’t an expensive innovation, but someone trying to turn fast credits on a less than cosmopolitan backwater would try to cut corners in this way.

Eva didn’t like needles.

She tilted her head back as the empty packet slipped from her fingers. “I knew I forgot to bring some water in here.”

“If it’s real, it’s still good,” she heard him say. “That should take hold – in how long?”

“It’ll build over the next twenty to thirty, then you coast for – whenever.” She could already feel the quickening heartbeat, but that might have been from the adrenaline or the anticipation.

When she was sure it had its grip on her, Eva let her chin fall back to its regular position and looked at her partner across the table. His eyebrows arched as he stared at her. “The eyes do go first, don’t they?” He marveled at the almost supernatural glow her eyes now put out – glitterstim’s hallmark.

His hesitation was at an end – he took his dose as well. 

As he stared at the ceiling and complimented the quality of both the drugs and the building, Eva stole a glance at her commlink. 

Two-Boots and Fishman had replied in the negative. No word from ShriekHawk. Reception in the back here was too poor to reach the _Thief;_ she knew going in she wouldn’t be able to reach Crown or Bacca. Fishman asked if EC wanted to end business early tonight. Two-Boots agreed to that idea and said he’d step outside for a smoke, if that was the case. Fishman suggested she give ShriekHawk a call. 

Instead, quick fingers brought up the last message from ShriekHawk, and her thumb slid over the silent panic button on her comm, and then she watched her rival carefully. Bluebarbs were deadly indeed; they had to be handled carefully, but with the right number of precautions, she’d heard of wasps’ nests migrated peaceably and profitably. 

But as the man had said, it might have been already too late.

Eva had to find Akaavi.

**

Theron wove his way through the streets, feeling absolutely ridiculous. Honestly, it had taken very little effort on his part to look the role of a wastoid – his limited clothing after several months on the run was increasingly faded and easy to tear. He had some items in reserve for when he actually had to look respectable, as well as his eternally serviceable boots, but most of his clothing was headed the way of the dark brown jacket that had met its end earlier this week: rest in pieces. A patch from one such shirt had been made to improvise an eyepatch that adequately covered his implants. Dressing like the dregs of Rishi’s pirate community was no difficult feat.

He came upon the warehouse quickly but lingered at a distance. He’d managed to find the blueprints of the building and collaborate them with Guss’s photos from the other night. Offices upstairs with adjoining bathrooms. Warehouse space downstairs, converted to gambling floor and bar. The warehouse had a large door that opened out onto the docks, and he could see people milling around out there. He was aware of the large ‘queen’s table,’ for lack of better description and the back rooms that lay beyond it on the warehouse level; he wasn’t sure what their purpose had been originally – offices? Specialized storage? Unsure what they were being used for now. Bathrooms back there as well. Fire escapes on the sides of the buildings, both upper and lower floors.

Theron meandered around the perimeter of the building at a distance. He had decided to add a limp and a stagger to his gait this evening; they would bother his knee in the morning, but he would rather throw someone else off than risk being recognized. 

On his second perambulation around the building, he noticed a familiar figure standing a ways away from the building, but keeping an eye on it while searching for someone. Theron muttered an ‘enhance’ command, and his implants’ night vision setting kicked in. Corso.

Theron made his way over to the solitary figure, who managed not to do a double-take. He could play it cool. “Sitrep?” he asked in a hoarse voice with a Rishi lilt to it.

Corso gestured for Theron to walk with him, their pace slow due to Theron’s chosen acting method of the night. “Eva’s brokering something with a major player on-planet..” Theron knew he wasn’t going to get the details on that directly. “Akaavi alerted her that the wine he brought with him was poisoned, but we don’t know where she is now. Bluebarbs got a reputation on Rishi for trickery, so I’m guessing all the events are connected. I’m here watching doors, Guss is supervising the gambling and the bar. Bowdaar and Risha had the night off. Eva needs out of that meeting. Risha’s willing to come over if we need help, but we’re trying not to look like we’re swarming – don’t want to give away that something is wrong.”

“And that’s why Guss calls me? To ‘pull’ Eva?” 

Theron only noticed the slightest hitch in Corso’s step. “Yeah, get her safe so we can usher out the other guy, and then maybe find where Akaavi ended up. She’s probably fine, but Guss worries.”

The Mon Cal had always had a… soft spot for the Mandalorian, unwelcome and unappreciated as it was. 

Theron frowned slightly. “If I remember correctly, Eva had a bio reader. Does all the crew?”

Corso nodded. “Yeah, but the only person who can activate it is Eva.”

Theron gave him an odd look – that’s not how he remembered Manaan.

Corso cast a furtive look around him “She told Risha to activate her biochip – yeah. But Risha couldn’t do it – Eva’s voice command did it. Little bit of misdirection, in case someone was eavesdropping; they think we can track all the crew, all the time.”

“Makes them think twice about any abduction plot,” Theron conceded. “And that’s why you need to get her out of the meeting.”

Corso checked the immediate area before opening the door for Theron. “More like get her separated from whoever she’s doing business with. I mean, she needs to do what she has to…” Then Corso quickly walked through the door, holding it open behind him just enough for Theron to take the hint and come through.

“That normal?”

Corso turned on his heel quickly in the entry way to the warehouse, where they were still out of sight of the night-time occupants. “This guy seemed less interested in scoring distribution than he was other _stuff_. Given Akaavi’s disappeared – I don’t want to think --- ” Corso gestured at the situation as it was. “She’s not like that. _Normally_.”

Theron had done enough time breaking up human trafficking rings and the often connected drug smuggling rings to connect dots. “Last comm from Eva?”

“She attached a panic signal to Akaavi’s messages – not hers. She’s fine for now, but I don’t know how long that’ll last, if the guy’s she with –” Abruptly, Corso stopped speaking and physically shoved Theron forward into the warehouse, nearly colliding with someone that had been heading toward the door.

In character, Theron cursed at Corso before wheeling around to stalk toward the back of the warehouse where the spare rooms were, shoving a few patrons as he went. Despite the music and the mumbling around him, he was able to pitch his hearing toward the various rooms. Some were being used for sporting, others for gambling, but he could hear steady conversation coming out of one toward the very back. He didn’t enter the back hallway. He leaned against the wall, waiting, giving his leg a rest. As long as the conversation continued, he could hear that she was alive and coherent. 

He wore a leer as he scanned the room, letting his eyes drop noticeably on certain women that were filtering through – some looked back, which made him regret _that_ choice immediately. His roving eyes eventually found Guss behind the bar. When Guss finally made eye contact with him, he silently gestured for a drink, _now_. 

After he sent the barhop scurrying away, Theron looked at the bottle with the dirty label and dark glass, before swigging it, bracing himself for something truly atrocious. 

It was a vanilla cream soda, and Theron nearly burst out laughing in surprise. Oh, but there was a shot of _something_ mixed in, just enough to leave the scent of hard liquor in his mouth – just enough to throw anyone who dared get in his face, but so little that it would be a waste of his detoxification implants. 

About half-way through the bottle, he heard the door open. “Should feel it now,” Theron heard her say.

“Yeah. That wine is calling – you’ll like it,” came a broadly Rishi accent, with tinges of something from the Inner Rim. 

“What do you like?” Eva’s retort came back, and there was an audible slap of hands to clothing and her surprised, high giggle, something artificial to Theron’s ears.

Then he heard a hard collision, like someone being forced up against a wall. A muffled cry of surprise, then a groan of desire from a distinctly male voice.

Theron involuntarily tensed up. _Normally,_ the word echoed in his head. He was half-tempted to finish the rest of his drink. She probably assumed she’d have to resolve this herself. Some way. 

She didn’t have to.

Theron carefully turned the corner to face down the hallway. The dim lights in the ceiling revealed that Eva had her business partner pinned up against the wall in a rather passionate embrace. He could see a strategically placed knee between the man’s legs, angled more for his stimulation than for any threat. He couldn’t see where one hand was, but the other was clearly tangled in his hair, pressing his face into her neck. Her head was tipped back, eyes closed, brow slightly creased in concentration. 

Some unbidden feeling rose up in him, but he was on mission. Get her away from him, without breaking cover, without drawing attention to her excuses for any absence. As Theron’s shadow crossed the side of her face, her eyes opened.

The red-orange glow of her eyes seared the darkness, and she recognized him. 

And she gave him a wink.

The missing hand reappeared and showed him a vial she had pilfered from the man’s interior coat pockets. 

Theron flashed an open palm to Eva, and she silently launched the small container toward him. He caught it with ease and made it disappear within the folders of his own ragged clothes. He stepped back and away from the entrance to the hallway in order to lie in wait. He contemplated the rest of the bottle of spiked vanilla cream soda and elected to reserve it.

The wall creaked as the body weight was removed from it. Theron heard a squeal from Eva – an angry one that she tried to make sound amorous. The man’s voice asked, “Is there an upstairs to this place?” 

“Yeah,” she answered, breathy and rushed. He could hear their footsteps approaching, her smaller steps quicker. She was trying to make distance between them. 

Before he could react, Eva was out of the hallway, overshooting Theron’s hiding place due to her rapid pace. She wanted _away –_

The guy following her was a little taller than Theron, but he had nothing on the agent in terms of physical prowess. After sizing up his rival, running a few calculations in his head, Theron lurched out of the shadow he was hiding in, one hand still holding his drink. Making a note to apologize to her later, Theron caught up to her with rapid, long strides, and seized her by the collar of her coat. “You’re late,” he growled. 

To her credit, Eva didn’t fight his grasp on her. He saw her wince slightly at the weight of his hand, which easily encompassed that sensitive place between her neck and shoulder. “I didn’t forget, I just had to take care of other business. You don’t own me.” She smirked darkly up at him and shook off his hand, maintaining her status as captain while suggesting other, more intimate connections to the business partner that now stood just a few feet away. The other man’s face – which wasn’t bad, if Theron was to be honest – began to twist as he watched a seemingly domestic (albeit dysfunctional) scene unfold. 

“You done? For now?” Theron rasped, giving the man a nasty look that required little acting on his part. 

Eva looked over at her thwarted partner. “Oh, we sealed the business deal but we had some details to finish…?”

The man scoffed. “I’ll take a raincheck for when you’re less … occupied.” His eyes strayed to the wine that had been left on the queen’s table. “Enjoy it, you two. I got more where that came from.” 

Theron didn’t like that threat. With his stare still trained on the interloper, he blindly pushed his drink into Eva’s hands. “Wash your mouth out with this. You don’t know where he’s been.”

He didn’t let the guy give him a glare; Theron ignored him in favor of possessively watching the woman that had been wanted that night. She drank the rest of the vanilla cream soda, and he could see when her lips curved and she realized it was a Guss special. As she turned to look at the bar, her collar came away from her neck, and he could see a dark mark forming. 

He finally placed the emotion he’d had earlier when he wasn’t sure how much of all this was a cover compared to standard business practice. Now it was all replaced by fury, as he replayed the sound of her yelping. 

That bastard had bit her. 

Theron knew in that moment he had to get himself out of there. He could not let these feelings run unchecked; they were dangerous to the op. Rather than breaking someone’s face in, he opted for an alternative vent. 

As Eva finished the drink and passed it off to a passing waiter, Theron effortlessly picked her up and hoisted her over his shoulder. He heard her gasp, then the catch in her throat as she attempted to check her laughter. Theron sorted out his trajectory toward the stairs, and he gave one final, parting shot to the man who still lingered, for some ungodly reason. “You still wanting an invite up?” Theron stepped in on the man’s space, and his rival hastily backpedalled.

Theron made a beeline toward the staircase, mindful of his limp (and cursing his past self for such a stupid idea), holding Eva’s legs to his chest as the rest of her draped over his shoulders and back. She gave some token resistance, but like many women who found themselves in this position, she elected to take advantage of the moment and grab his ass.

Theron nearly jumped of his skin when she did that, but that _was_ something lovers would do en route to the bedroom – or in their case, the upstairs men’s room. It was a good cover. To be honest, he didn’t mind… he just wished it was in a different context…. And he wished he wasn’t walking up a flight of stairs with the (idiotic) limp.

Theron ground that thought to dust once they were out of sight, turning the corner behind the privacy screens of the upstairs. His implants informed him of the bathroom immediately to his forward left, and he used his foot to nudge the door open. After he cleared the entryway, he tilted himself forward and let Eva’s feet touch the neglected tile floor. She slid easily out of his arms. Theron couldn’t help the training instilled in him. He asked her, “Glitterstim?” as he warily looked at her eyes, which were still glowing unnaturally.

“He wanted me to do glitteryll – I like remembering most of my nights, so I just went for the glitterstim. My own supply – I’m safe.”

Glitteryll was used to make people forget, whether taken consensually or not. Combined with his intentions and the antidote to whatever was in the wine bottle, just enough for himself —

Theron grabbed at her collar again, avoiding touching the mark, but revealing it to the harsh lights over the sink. “I was only half joking about rinsing your mouth out. You need to get this looked at – I’ll go with…” he trailed off as he belatedly remembered one of the rumored, unproven side effects of glitterstim – temporary mind-reading. 

Some thought it was just a delusion of users; their senses were already so heightened, all the data threading together easily as the senses collected it. Someone could easily run a con using the drug’s effects. 

It didn’t matter whether it was hypersensitive sleuthing or actual telepathy. Eva’s eyes glowed bright as she read him like one of her skypirate novels. 

His eyes dropped away for a moment before reasserting themselves. “You need to activate Akaavi’’s tracker. She still hasn’t checked in.”

Eva’s hands were swift even as her eyes remained on him. “She had a taste of it – I don’t know how much. She told me it was vinegar – you know, wine that hasn’t aged properly. Or has been tampered with.” 

Theron hastily pulled out the vial she’d thrown him. He held it up to the light to get a glimpse of the liquid within. “Still intact. Looks like an antivenom.”

Eva squeezed past him toward far wall of the bathroom, which butted against the outside. She impatiently held her wrist up toward the window, hoping to improve reception. “The guy was posing as the dealer for the Bluebarbs and a few of the other gangs on planet. He was actually the leader of the gang itself – it probably is something naturally occurring but lab concentrated. Sort of a calling card.” 

Theron had discarded his make-shift eyepatch and was pawing through a set of ramshackle cabinets under the sink. He let the night vision of his implants kick in, and he was able to discern a new-ish first aid kit, likely from _Virtue’s Thief’s_ early shipments. “Don’t suppose you know if she had any allergies…?”

With a beep, Eva dropped her wrist comm back down to eye level to stare at Akaavi’s vitals. Theron could see a swift mind at work, accelerated by the drugs. Something didn’t make sense – but it was gone in a moment, as her brain supplied other pieces, Theron supposed. 

He really shouldn’t be admiring her brain at work while she was high. 

Eva swallowed once, before saying, slowly, “She’s alive. Right down the hall in the ladies’.” Then Eva fixed him with one of those Voidhound stares – not a dangerous one, with implicit threats, but the one she used when ordering people. “Watch the door for us, but switch off whatever hearing enhancements you have. I need to talk to her. Ship business.”

Theron frowned. “You don’t trust me.”

Eva didn’t waver, nor did her temper come out to play. Evenly and firmly, she said, “It’s not about trust in you. It’s her business and her Captain’s business.” She paused a second before adding on, “I’d tell Bowdaar not to sniff around, if he was here.”

That had to suffice, as far as assurances could go, he supposed. “Got your blaster?” Eva crossed her right arm over her body to cross-draw from a shoulder holster within her coat. Theron pulled his own blaster, a small model. “Then let’s go.”

**

After Theron had cautiously poked his head out to survey the upstairs, the pair crept down the hall, blasters drawn. It was assumed that Akaavi was alone, but given the predatory nature of the head of the Bluebarbs, it was unsaid that there was some risk of someone else being up there. 

Eva’s brain was sopping up information – walking up a darkened hallway was an adventure. The creak of boards, the distant smells and noises of the gambling floor below them, the lingering imprint of Theron’s body heat on her – all were sensory images that pressed in upon her. 

Another sensation under her boot caused her to look down. The consistency was slick, like motor oil. A stain on the floor was still slightly bright in color, though it was drying down to an easily concealed brown color. “Theron.” Eva looked up at him briefly before immediately dropping her eyes back down. There was a trail of fresh blood – small droplets at first, but increasing as they drew nearer to where Akaavi’s bioreader said she was. 

In silence, Theron passed her the medical kit and antivenom. 

As they reached the door, Eva felt her commlink vibrate. Theron’s hand went up to his implants immediately. Lana, considerately enough, sent a high-priority holo message in text form – no audio. 

_From: Unknown_

_Two trackers have cycled through. We have a fix. Recommend midday recovery mission. Outside contractor en route._

“When all creatures of the night are asleep,” Eva muttered to Theron. “Tell her I acknowledge.” Eva looked down at the floor beneath her one last time before leading with her blaster into the bathroom.

No visible people in there, as the door opened. 

Eva shrank back to the far wall to ensure nobody was behind the door as it swung shut. 

In the eerie silence, Eva stared at the blank wall in front of her before dropping into a crouch to see beneath the stalls, checking for occupancy. 

No. Nothing.

Mandos were like cats – they crawled off to die unseen. 

The trail of blood was evolving from the occasional drop and drip to spatters. 

Then they disappeared before the first of the stall doors were reached.

Eva used the blaster in her hand to push open each stall door, safety off, ready to fire.

Nothing. No one. 

Until the last locked door. “Akaavi,” she hissed desperately. 

An almost inaudible groan reached her ears. If she hadn’t been rolling on glitterstim, she might have missed it. 

“Akaavi!” she said, louder. 

“Captain,” finally came the weak response. 

“Open the damned door.”

“No.” The word was stronger now. 

Eva began to recite the medical readout that she’d memorized in the minute she’d seen it. “Blood pressure, elevated nearing hypertensive stage for Zabraks. Swelling, feet and face, likely. Fever. Likely got a headache due to a the blood pressure and the histamine response. Nausea.” She stopped. She could hear Akaavi’s breathing, no sign of movement yet. “Cramping. Rapidly declining hormone levels. Bleeding.”

Silence.

Eva understood why Bowie had shaved part of his fur off after she’d been shot. The smell of blood was oppressive and lingered.

Eva cursed, then shoved the first aid kit and antivenom under the stall door. “Take the whole vial. Then clean yourself up the best you can.”

Silence. The kit remained untouched.

“If you don’t, I will crawl under there. Then I’ll have one of the boys carry you home, like some damsel in distress. You know, I think Guss has a fantasy holo about that –”

A red and black hand shot out and scooped up the items with a snarl. “I did not consume that much.”

“The dose makes the poison, typically size-based.” 

Silence, but Eva heard the squeak of a lid being turned open. She saw the vial drop, empty, onto the floor and bounce once before her nimble hand shot out to grab it. 

They knew what they were talking about. 

The medkit was rifled through, and Eva could hear the sterile gauze packs being torn into.

“Who is outside?” Akaavi’s voice came with no fire in it. 

“Agent Shan. The boys didn’t want it to look like the crew was panicking and wanting to run to your aid – which we were, by the way – so they called him in to get me out of a meeting. I told him to turn his hearing enhancements off.” 

A grunt in response. Then “Back to the ship?”

“To finish this? Yeah. Fire escape doable?” 

“Yes.”

The door finally swung inward, and Akaavi stood over Eva, stoic. Akaavi’s vibrant red and black coloring on her face had faded; she looked like a de-saturated holo of herself. Eva stared up to study her crewmate for a moment. “I’ll tell Theron to go his own way back to his hideout.” 

“Yes.”

**

The hum of medbay comforted Eva. It was like most of the internal gearwork of the ship – integrated into her own rhythm and pace on the ship. It was silence. It was home. 

Eva hoped Akaavi felt the same way, nearly five years after joining the crew. If she felt safe, the conversation would be…somewhat easier. The Captain didn’t know how direct this would get. It wasn’t something that came up on the ship.

Hell, nobody had taken this option in the ship betting pool, that’s how … unexpected this was.

Eva flipped on all the machines and tossed her coat onto a nearby chair. Akaavi eventually arrived in medbay after changing out of her Red Hulls costume. Now she wore her utilitarian sleepwear and deposited herself on a bed without prompting. 

Eva looked over at her patient, feeling the last tiny peaks of glitterstim run through her system before the big, big letdown. Whether it was mind-reading or hyper-attuned senses, Eva took a final read on Akaavi.

The medbay computer was then turned on and focused on the Zabrak’s vitals and system readouts. Eva watched the data filter in. Cross-reference was made to her previous medbay visits. All the bones broken and healed, all the pieces of flesh sheared off over the years and reattached or scarred over, the missing appendix, the three artificial ribs that she never talked about from a time before joining the crew, and, of course, her new birth control implant. 

Eva studied the date of installation. 

She opened the conversation. “So, that guy from the Batuuan Harvest festival a little over a month ago.”

A sigh, then a hum of affirmation.

“They advertise this device as being able to take care of this sort of thing if you got it replaced in the window… guess we were out of it by the time we got to Coruscant.” Eva kept her eyes on the screen in front of her. 

In the periphery of Eva’s vision, Akaavi shifted uncomfortably on the medbay bed. “No, I took the risk. I cut the timing too close.” 

Eva said nothing. She wasn’t going to insult either of their intelligences.

“I thought it would have resolved already,” Akaavi finally volunteered “If I was not normal next week, then a solution would have been sought.”

“You broke ship rules by doing that.” 

Eva didn’t have the same business her parents had. Some lifestyle choices were simply incompatible with serving on _Virtue’s Thief_. 

The Zabrak grunted in agreement. “It’s deserving of a pay dock.”

“I’ll just hassle you more than usual once you’re back at top form.” Eva scanned the read out. “Medically, it’s over. You need to call someone?”

She shook her head. “Kept or not, I have no feelings or obligations.” 

“Yeah. Ok.” Eva read over the data. “You want me to keep this on record or not?”

Akaavi didn’t answer, so Eva looked over at her. “It’s your choice. If it goes in, everyone eventually knows what happened. If it doesn’t, nobody does, but if it happens again –”

“It won’t happen again,” Akaavi quickly replied. Her body, though weakened by its ordeal, tensed up, as if ready to go to war with Eva over the topic.

With a lazy gesture, Eva switched off the record, saving nothing. Akaavi watched her with intense green eyes. “We all have our secrets,” Eva observed. “Not everything has to be common knowledge with the crew. The Captain always needs to know, though.” She stood with her hands on her hips, shoulders slightly hitched back -- she was the boss, but it was something that didn’t have to be insisted upon. Akaavi knew it. The crew knew it. 

Akaavi met her gaze easily. “That was my first mistake.”

“But I guess it makes us even.”

Akaavi stared at her a moment, then closed her eyes and leaned back on the bed, sighing. “The captain has no obligation to the crew in that regard. You owed me nothing. You owe me nothing. It was different.” A pause as she let her body settle down onto the medbay bed. “How long must I rest?”

“Assuming you’re a good girl who takes all her medicine as instructed, about a week. You don’t have to stay here unless something else happens.”

The eyes opened again. “Have we gotten any intel on the trackers?”

Eva nodded. “Just came through before we found you. It’s tomorrow, middle of the day when most of the pirates are likely asleep.”

Akaavi made a disgusted noise at herself. “I should be on that op. It’s my turn and –” 

Eva shook her head. “Unknown place, unknown amount of resistance, limited intel – I’m taking Bowie. You were my first choice, but that’s a moot point now.”

Akaavi rolled to her side to stare at her. “That is a completely awful idea, Eva.”

The use of her first name threw her off momentarily, but a small spike of indignance helped her reclaim her footing. She didn’t need to hear this from Guss and Akaavi both, since their agreement would signal an apocalypse of some sort. “I take the risks. Bowie minimizes the risks.” 

“Not here.” Though her pallor was still off, Akaavi’s green eyes still were lively and intense. Risha didn’t have to tell Akaavi about the whole Pollaran connection for Akaavi to see trouble before it happened. It’s why she was intel and security on _Virtue’s Thief_. 

For a moment, Eva wondered whether she should give up command if Corso or Bowdaar started lecturing her – if her decisions were becoming obviously bad ones. 

Fortune smiled on Eva as she heard a rapping at the ship door. There was a limited cast of characters that would do this, since her crew could walk right on board with their clearance. “I think we’re getting checked on by our Republic handler.”

Akaavi rolled herself off the medbay bed. “I’ll head to bed and self-monitor. I’ll let Risha know to… watch for me.”

“Yeah, being poisoned is not fun,” Eva agreed. She walked over to the med supply cabinet. “You need anything? I think you’re safe for pain killers.” 

Akaavi shrugged. Eva dispensed a dose of two pills and offered them out to Akaavi. “The worst is over, as we said. But you don’t need to punish yourself.”

A flicker of an expression appeared on Akaavi’s face, but it was gone too quickly for Eva to read. The glitterstim was on the wane. Akaavi took the pills and then headed toward the medbay sink for a glass of water. “Thanks, Captain.”

“Sleep well.”

Maybe those that knew were being overprotective – knowing too much and putting themselves into _her_ shoes rather than letting her be herself in her shoes, because nobody else _understood_ \--

Eva withdrew from medbay, heading toward the ship door. She passed T3 in the hallway. “We got a visual on the security holo?”

“Noisy person = Agent Shan.”

“Thanks.”

Her pace didn’t slow down as she rounded the final turn and then jumped down the steps leading to the ship exit. The gangplank was still down so Guss and Corso could crawl in eventually. 

Eva consulted her chrono. Stars. It was almost 20:00 standard time – nearly 0:00 Rishi time, meaning she and Bowdaar had to call it a night so they could prep for tomorrow. Whatever Theron’s business was, she hoped it was quick. 

As Eva pulled the door open, Theron’s hand was raised to knock one more time. He gradually lowered his hand, looking slightly sheepish. “Hi. How is she?”

Eva leaned against the doorway. “She’ll be fine. Needs about a week of rest to make sure it’s out of her with no lingering effects – I don’t know exactly what was in the drink, but the antivenom seems to have done the job. I’ll go with Bowie tomorrow to do the job.” 

Theron nodded. “Good.” 

Eva read his body language as wanting to go, so she started to pull back into the ship, readying for his send off.

But then he stepped in toward her. “How’s the neck?”

Eva blinked. She hadn’t even thought of it, and he read that off her immediately. Before she could even respond to the question, he had tilted her head to look at the mark again, which had likely reached a deep red shade, punctuated by purple marks where teeth had been. She’d seen marks like that before – had ‘em before.

Eva sure as hell wouldn’t refer to this one as a lovebite though. 

“He broke the skin,” the words tumbled across the skin of her neck, and even that stung, just a little. “Let me –” Theron stopped himself. Restrained himself. Then Eva almost heard him break the chain. “I’d have a better angle on it than you.”

“I’ll take an antibiotic shot and ice it,” she offered. 

Theron drew back, a dissatisfied look on his face. “I know –” again, the stumble, the chain, then the break – “I know how to make bruises disappear quickly…when I’ve had to on ops. I don’t want to see it anymore.”

The last line caught her off guard. It surprised him too, based on the expression on his face. Her mind went back to the face he’d worn before she’d extracted the antivenom bottle from the jerk’s interior pockets. Before he knew it wasn’t at all real. 

“Never took you as a jealous guy,” she said softly.

“Neither did I,” Theron admitted, quietly. He shifted his weight slightly, letting a nervous hand come up to rub the back of his neck. 

They lingered in the fragile space. 

Eva stepped back from the door, a silent invitation in. 

He only hesitated a moment more before his hand dropped, and he stepped through. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to clarify the contents here, since neither Akaavi nor Eva get blunt about it. Akaavi was indeed poisoned by the wine that the Bluebarb leader had intended for Eva. She's fine. However, it did expose a mistake she had made a few weeks ago: she didn't get her birth control implant replaced on time. I haven't speculated a lot about where the implant exactly is in Star Wars verse (is it in the arm or the back or somewhere else? or is it more like an IUD?), but in my headcanon, the implant works similarly to an IUD in that if you have unprotected sex or failed birth control, getting the IUD installed within a five day window can thwart a pregnancy.
> 
> Akaavi missed the window. She knew it. She knew her condition. When she was poisoned, it set off a miscarriage. To be clear, Akaavi wasn't going to continue the pregnancy in any event. She was definitely not attached to the guy who contributed, and she likes being a smuggler. Eva doesn't permit pets or children on the ship; it's not safe for them (see my Code of Conduct for a Smuggler Ship). Akaavi knew she made a mistake. She experienced consequences.
> 
> As for the last parts of Eva and Akaavi's conversation about discretion -- we shall see.


	11. Rishi Op, Day 5:  The Heels of Achilles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even the strongest among us have their weaknesses.

# Day 5

“Intel to Captain, are you in position?” Theron flipped a few switches to link in the _Thief_ to their comms. Eva and Bowdaaar had taken a couple of speeders out to the remote island that the trackers had landed on. Bioreaders activated and trackers on, both _Virtue’s Thief_ and the hideout’s occupants could see them.

“Affirmative. I can visualize the containers we tagged at the top of the hill. Nothing more amusing than a Wookiee in a stealth belt murdering slavers.” 

Theron couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face. “You two have fun.”

(Sixty hours later, there would no words that he would regret more. He had spoken in ignorance. That was a less than optimal state for an agent of the Republic Strategic Information Service.)

At this time, however, Theron was still mulling over the events of the previous evening – about twelve hours before. It hadn’t taken long for him to rid Eva of her bruises. After treating the wound with oral and injected antibiotics, he’d set to work on carefully clustered shots of kolto combined with a few hyposprays of medical liquid nitrogen. Once the blood vessels were repaired, it was just a matter of removing the blood bursts trapped in the skin. 

_“What sort of op did you need to do this for?”_

_“One where the guilty party would have a bruise shaped like the security actuator; I had to smack it hard enough to set it off so I wouldn’t get caught with the goods, but that within itself would catch me red-handed, literally. By dumb luck, I had a blaster in my dominant hand, so at least I only lost use of my left hand for a day.”_

_“This better not make it so I can’t turn my head—”_

_“No, it’s not as extensive as my entire palm. You also have a fully stocked medbay at hand. I had a medpack in a hotel room.”_

Lana leaned spoke through the commlink. “I’m sending coordinates for a rendezvous site with our off-world transportation. She…has an interesting linguistic style, even for a Twi’lek.”

“She is a good kid. A little abrasive, but she knows what’s right. Career smuggler like yourself. Just got her own route and ship, no partners anymore.” Theron couldn’t help but feel proud of Teff’ith. Unlike Eva, she hadn’t inherited a ship and a business; she’d clawed her way to the top, despite her regular misfortune of helping Theron, which caused business setbacks. “She likes being a captain, not crew. Thinks I’m an idiot.”

Eva’s light laughter over the comm gave him the same warm feelings he had last night.

_“Sorry you feel like you have to do this.”_

_“I volunteered. And you didn’t have a lot of options.”_

_“I probably could have figured something else out if I knew you were coming.”_

_He didn’t have an answer for that. He tried to fixate on that one persistent blood vessel that hadn’t quite closed yet. He readied another shot of kolto._

_She was still as he did what he had to. When she felt him move on from the troubled spot, she clarified, “I don’t do jealousy games like some dames do.”_

_“Like you said, I don’t own you.”_

_“You don’t, but I feel guilty … I saw your face when you found us.”_

_“Sorry. I shouldn’t — it wasn’t appropriate for me -- ”_

_“Don’t be sorry. And please be inappropriate more often.”_

_A hot flash. A pause in his work. “When we’re out of this.”_

_“Promise?”_

_He had to stop to collect himself again, but he finished his work with a grin. “I promise.”_

“We’re moving. Captain out.”

“Crown to Captain, we’re watching from home.” Since the slave camp was so far out from Raider’s Cove, their transmissions were not guaranteed to be secured. As a result, they were using their private call signs that day. 

“Acknowledged.” 

Lana arched a brow as she looked at the computer read-outs. “Is it just me, or do they seem…protective of her? More than usual. Normally we hear from them at the end of a perilous op, not the beginning.”

Theron shrugged. “Rough night at the warehouse.”

Lana gave him a look. “You were out late.”

“But not past my curfew,” he said lightly. “Minor situation handled. All covers maintained.”

Lana lowered her chin slightly then raised it again. Her face was slightly puckered.

“You feeling left out?” Theron threw out there.

Lana tilted her head back and forth twice. “Somewhat – not because of what happened with Bowdaar,” she quickly added. “I know they’re _your_ assets, not Imperial. But there’s something else. Something not quite right on that ship.” 

So Theron’s gut feelings weren’t failing him after all, despite last night. “How do you mean?”

Lana winced slightly. “The Mon Cal – Guss – he can sense the Force but not wield it, correct? It flows past him and around him?”

Theron gave a half-shrug. “I guess? I’m as Force numb as it comes.” He’d never fully disclosed his Jedi mental training regime to her. He still kept it up; he meditated daily at Coruscant’s dawn, wherever he was. It was harder to maintain on Rishi, but he still clocked the same number of weekly sessions; Rishi’s week had an extra day to atone for the lost 4 hours the other days of the week. 

Lana brushed her bangs back behind her ear. “Well, Guss is somewhat of a large stone in the middle of the river – the river representing the Force. And I can sense something _happening_ around the stone. He’s not changing, but somehow, things around him are. It’s… troubling. He’s a unique entity in the Force. I’m unsure if the Sith screening tests ignore sentients like him or simply aren’t well-attuned enough to find—”

“Captain to Intel, we have a situation.” 

Lana abrupted stopped and punched up a map with Eva’s location. “We read you.”

“Holos are worth a thousand words.” Eva had sounded so lively a few minutes before – now, that energy had drained out of her. 

Images began to shoot through Eva’s macrobinoculars to the powerful processor on the _Thief_ and over the secured line to the hideout; it was a nifty little network that T3 had cooked up. 

What they saw was not simply a random collection of slaver containers haphazardly skewed near mining facilities.

“It’s an entire series of slave camps,” Theron breathed. “We’re not dealing in a liberation of a hundred.” His stomach plummeted to his boots. This…

This was the sort of break he had wanted back when he worked sentient trafficking for SIS. This was _not_ what he wanted to deal with _on top of_ a massive galactic conspiracy of cultists. 

A few grunts from the Wookiee weren’t picked up by the translator. “Come again?” Lana asked. 

“He says the size of it reminds him of the slave camp the Exchange had on Dromund Fels about 50 years ago.” She stopped, and Theron could almost see in his mind Eva turning to Bowdaar, hands on her hips as she said, “And how many is that?”

The translators picked up Bowdaar’s response clearly this time. “Between 2500 and 5000 sentients. The camps are divided up – you see, into three? Two large, one small? One for males, one for females, and one for those who need procedures before leaving: branding, collaring, tattooing, prosthetics.”

Theron saw Lana mouth quietly to herself “alteration.” She was learning.

Eva exhaled loudly enough that static was generated over the comm lines. “This isn’t going to be an operation of inconvenience. We’re breaking a spine here. Captain to Crown, hail the _Warthog_. I know he’s keeping eyes on the sky for us, but --- too much to do. Also, prep the _Thief_ for launch. Captain to Intel, ETA on your asset?”

Theron looked at Teff’ith’s flight plan. “Before nightfall. You’ve got just over four hours.” Anticipating the next question, he offered, “She’s flying an Aurore for this job – we thought it would be enough to get them all off-world in one shot.”

“Better than two XS stock lights.” Sounds of fabric scraping rock met their ears as Eva sat down, or at least that’s what it sounded like to Theron. 

Lana gave voice to what Eva was likely thinking, and what Theron was most certainly thinking: “We need to rethink this entire operation phase and quickly.” 

Then Eva switched her comm off. 

Theron reached up to try to re-establish the connection. No, nobody was jamming them. They could still see her transponder on screen. Theron and Lana exchanged a look.

Something wasn’t right.

**

The Captain of _Virtue’s Thief_ sat on a large rock, hunched over like some vulture. 

She should have called Rogun once they knew they were going for this. 

She hadn’t bothered to ask how big Darmas’ ‘pocket money’ project was. 

He hadn’t gotten to where he was by playing small, professionally or at sabacc or with her. 

She should have known or at least anticipated something like this.

She should have called Rogun. 

The Wookiee stood next to her, arms crossed. “We can take out the guards. The fear of them is larger than their numbers.”

“And then what, Bowie? It’s one thing to move a couple hundred people rapidly using a transporter, maybe let a few of them stay overnight in the warehouse until we can do a second run. We’re talking ten times that much.” She let her hands come up to cover her face, blocking out the midday sun. She tried to organize her thoughts, ease her breathing, and block certain faces in her memory. 

Eva was failing. 

Risha was speaking over the comm now. “I can get a life form scan once the _Thief_ is in range. I don’t doubt he’s right, but numbers matter at this point.” 

Eyes still closed, Eva brought the wrist comm up to her mouth. “Can you hail Grumpy?”

There was a momentary silence on the other end. “What do you want me to say to get him on the line?”

Eva let her wrist drop down to her side, and she opened her eyes to stare out at the very pinnacle of her ignorance. After a good minute or two, she raised her wrist to reply. “Tell ‘em we’re going to finish Darmas Pollaran’s business. All of it.” 

Risha took a deep breath. “Well, that should get him on the line.”

Rogun wasn’t going to like this.

It apparently roused other people on the ship as well. Eva heard Akaavi, now up from her sickbed, hissing at someone in the cockpit, “What does _he_ have to do with any of this?”

“Hell, I don’t know,” Corso muttered back. 

Bowdaar hadn’t been clued in either, but he didn’t seem surprised. Eva muted the commlink as he spoke. “This is where he got them from,” he said in a low voice.

“Most of them,” she acknowledged. “Some of them were from here, but others were dropped off here by the Hutts or the Imps. It’s what keeps the slavery rings in the Republic alive.”

“They would want you dead, Voidhound,” Bowie crooned. 

Eva stifled a laugh that barely had any heart in it in the first place. “You ever think of giving up this life and going to join some investigative agency? You put the pieces together faster than I did. Rogun had to tell my stupid ass.”

“You get clever with years. I have many on you, little --” 

Eva cut him off. “Don’t call me that now. When we’re here. I was a grown woman when I fell in with this–”

“You _never_ –”

Just then, Rogun’s voice cut through the commlink. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Found Darmas’ pocket money. 2500 to 5000-sentient occupancy sound right to you?” she replied tartly.

Initially, silence came through the commlink. Then: “You’re that kid that was told the electro-oven was hot and had to touch it anyway,” Rogun groused.

She felt the anger spike through her. Eva did not reply. The Voidhound did. “I am not – and I was not – a child. This ends here. What transports can Voidfleet get here on short notice?”

A low growly drone came from Rogun’s throat, a noise of hesitation before saying, “No. You want to _advertise_ you’re down there?”

She barreled onward, disregarding his concerns. “Aurore class ships can handle a few hundred. We’d need a squadron of them, at least, if this place is anywhere near capacity. Larger freighter might work, but speed is an issue. I want this place cleared out – tonight.”

“I thought you said you wanted to live long enough to enjoy your credits,” Risha coolly remarked.

She was undeterred. “How long have they had their lives stolen from them?”

Rogun broke through the comm again. “This a mass migration that is going to get noticed by the Nova Blades, the governments, hell, even the random spacer who gets his jollies off from watching traffic patterns. You’re exposing yourself here.” 

She stood up and looked out over the camp complex. “What’s the point of having it all if you can’t use it?” If you can’t change the way things are --- affect the balance of power?” 

A crunching sound came through the commlink; Rogun had broken something in his office. “You’re on a fucking crusade. You’re trying to right an unrightable wrong – !”

“And why shouldn’t I?” With all this hard power people keep telling me I’m _wasting_ , why shouldn’t I?” 

“It wasn’t your actions that caused this,” Akaavi started, but she didn’t get to finish the rest.

“No, it was what I _didn’t_ do. _Didn’t_ see. _Didn’t_ know. I wasn’t a child – I—”

She realized she was on the verge of yelling and blowing their cover atop the vista, and Bowdaar was staring at her, so alarmed, so worried ---

_Little Girl, you aren’t going to Corellia. Not like this._

A cold calmness settled over her. “ShriekHawk, I thought you wanted to see some hard power. To see me take what the Republic was unwilling to defend.”

Unwilling to back down, Akaavi responded, “Not all the cost-risk factors were made known to your crew before starting this venture.” 

She struck Achilles’ heel with deadly precision and _knew it_. Akaavi _knew_ that this was the one thing that would deter Eva from any impulsive path and anything ruled by that unfeeling creature of the underworld. 

It sent her reeling. Eva’s face faltered – she felt it. Dizzy, she sat down hard on her perch, eyes still fixed on those below.

_I nearly got them all killed, because I couldn’t see._

Voice flat. “We are taking out the slave camp here today. This is the job. We all knew that when we woke up this morning.”

Nobody spoke.

Eva pressed her hand to her forehead. She could feel the headache coming on. “What do we do with thousands of newly freed people? We can’t just set them loose on Rishi all at once – they need to get out of here. They need to go home…if they still got one.”

“They need medical care and food,” Bowdaar said from experience. 

“Nobody needs to die for them.” Rogun’s voice was harsh. 

Eva had almost forgotten entirely that Corso was in the cockpit when the familiar twang finally was heard. “When I was a merc, we got a job to liberate a bunch of folks from separatists – entire village. Cuz of how banged up everything else was on the planet and all the things that were broke with the local government, we got rid of the separatists and kept the people where they were—they had the infrastructure. We just….made it better for them.” He cleared his throat. “Treated ‘em with some dignity. Respect. Made sure they got their medicine….”

Risha interrupted him, but Eva felt her own jaw tremble when she heard how _fragile_ she sounded. “You made them stay in that place where…all that happened to them? Where they _saw_ things?”

Nobody on that commlink needed to specify what Risha meant.

Corso’s seat creaked, as Eva imagined him leaning over toward Risha, drawl thickening even as his eyes dropped in deference to her. “We didn’t have the transport to whisk them all away to a new place. We were just a tactical force – we didn’t have the firepower to afford attracting attention to ourselves to get them out. But we did have the government’s resources to keep them safe – there.”

Silence. A breeze from the sea made the trees around Bowdaar and Eva wave. Distant calls from a few birds were now audible. Eva took a few breaths before speaking again. “How many were you, Two Boots? Same number as the Hulls – the ones that checked out, anyway?”

“I reckon.” He paused. “Ain’t gotten far from Raider’s Cove. I can call our big-eyed friend.”

Rogun spoke next. “I can modify the next shipment of supplies. It’ll launch once Crown gives me numbers.”

“So this is it?” Eva asked, rising to her feet.

An awkward silence, then Risha simply said, “You’re the captain. Is this it?”

Eva shut her eyes for a moment, trying to will herself to get her act straight. “I still want the _Thief_ and the _Warthog_ to come for their medbays. The worst will go off with Spike’s friend.” She opened her eyes. “Other than that….that’s it.”

A shrill beep rang out. It demanded a response – it was Intel, who’d been left in the dark for this entire conversation. 

Well, that was at least 2 people that didn’t think she was becoming incompetent.

**

Theron was only slightly relieved when Eva picked up on the second ping. “Status?” he asked.

“We’re going. We can’t extract them as planned. They stay. They get off the planet a shipload at a time.” Eva’s voice was clipped, and he could hear a certain jagged quality to it. Conversations had been had, and he was not privy to them. He and Lana exchanged a look. She gestured to him – his asset, his issues.

“Supply in situ? Management?” He pressed a hand to his temple as his eyes went back up to the rudimentary map they’d constructed from intel and the early readings off the _Thief’s_ scanners. That ship was turning back around to Raider’s Cove now.

“Yes. And the Hulls – the ones we already vetted.” Theron could hear Eva and Bowdaar moving down toward the camp and he could see their beacons in motion. “The two smug ships will offer urgent care to those who need it, and your friend can get the worst off away from here. Where’s she taking them?” 

“Somewhere safe, I assure you.” For the same reasons they were using call signs, Theron wasn’t inclined divulge where Teff’ith did business; the only reason they even mentioned the ships by name was that they were ghost ships – it didn’t matter what they were called, as they were unregistered and untraceable.

And yet… “Do you need back-up out there?” he asked. Theron predicted her answer correctly. 

“No.”

“Don’t cut out us out of the comm circle again,” he sternly said. “This may be a Red Hulls op, but it’s also _our_ op as well.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lana silently nod in agreement. 

“Understood.” Then the line went idle. 

That was unsatisfying. 

**

The fan over Theron’s head clipped the afternoon light and caused infrequent shadows over his workspace. He could hear the drone of the main computer and the higher-pitched whine of the strategy table. Despite the fact he’d been able to deal with it for the past few weeks with no viable distraction, now all of this boring noise ground on his nerves. 

There had been brief comms among the ships and with the strike team. The _Thief’s_ scanners had indicated that there were about 1000 biologically female life forms, 1600 biologically male life forms, and perhaps 200 life forms in the medical building. Roughly, the camp was just over half capacity. 

“That should be about 30 guards,” Lana quietly stated. “They’re armed. They use fear to keep the numbers in line. More on the male side than female side. Maybe a handful in the medbays, mostly for the protection of any medical staff.” 

Neither Eva or Theron argued with her estimation. 

Eva’s rationale had involved liberating the women’s camp first, then moving on to the medical camp; the pop was lower and more manageable for her and Bowdaar. She needed able-bodied people who were willing to stay with the sick and wounded, meaning finding those that perhaps were not as familiar or willing to handle blasters; not everyone was from a Core World where gender equality was encouraged. Also, armed men moving into the women’s camp would be alarming; armed women moving into the men’s camp would trigger initial confusion, then relief once they realized they had been prisoners too.

The waiting was the hardest part. The wait for the initial report. The wait for the confirmation they were in. The wait for the first success, the first recruitment, the clearing of guards, the collection of intel. 

The wait.

Theron watched the chrono. Nothing was running late; all the information they were getting lined up to a logical timeline. There was nothing to panic about. 

Then, finally, “Guard tower 1 completely disabled. We’ve been noticed by the right people.” 

Theron felt some tensions escape his shoulders. “What condition are they in?” 

“Reasonable. They’re being fed so they can work or sold off-world. …It’s not as bad as it could be.” Theron could hear an effort at trying to be bright and optimistic, but they all knew the work was draining and depressing.

Then it became downright harrowing. Eva’s commlink was typically left on idle unless she spoke into it directly, seeking advice from the ship or from Intel. It would only go off if something of high volume occurred, like a blast or ….

Or screaming.

From the telemetry, the last of the guards had been ousted; she had blended in with the prisoners until she was revealed, Eva had commented. The _Thief_ had just sent notification that they would land as close as they could to the medbay. They had extra help on board. By the time the medical camp was cleared out, they would have an idea of who had to go first with Teff’ith, who would be arriving shortly thereafter. Things were going to plan.

But then the screaming. 

Eva’s commlink activated as she was exploring a bunk room, according to the map data Bowdaar had found in a databank in one of the guard posts. She’d probably heard it first and went to investigate, blasters drawn, long before the electronics started to pipe it into Lana and Theron’s hideout. 

“They took him! They took him!” were a few words Theron was able to make out; it was in Gran, a language he hadn’t spoken in a long time. Static and sobbing distorted the rest. 

“Kriff,” Eva muttered as the wailing continued. Then she said, loudly, “Anyone know the language? I got a translator but I can’t speak to her.” 

There was a general hubbub, a conversing among the other female inmates, deciding amongst themselves who would explain. Finally one voice drew close to Eva as she spoke. “They took her boy this morning --- took him to the med camp.” 

“Was he sick?”

“They were preparing to send him off-world.”

“We’re going there next.” There was a sound of fabric moving as Eva shoved her captain’s coat’s sleeves up and away from her wrist. “Intel, have there been any transports off Rishi since this morning? I know there was one last night, late.”

Lana’s hands were already racing around the data collected by the _Warthog;_ Rishi’s air traffic control was so poorly and inconsistently maintained that Jakarro had taken it upon himself to use his ship as a monitor. “No, nothing from that quarter of the planet. There was a shipment of exonium earlier, but the passengers were all Kel’Dor; their atmosphere on ship wouldn’t permit for a --- what is that person?”

“Gran,” Eva answered. She said to the woman next to her. “Tell her that he’s probably still on planet, and I’m going to find him probably within the next hour or two.”

The other woman did as requested, but that only made the woman louder, her begging directly specifically toward Eva. “He’ll be ruined! He couldn’t come home with me! We’d be outcasts!”

Theron thumbed a switch on his board. “Eva, the Gran have castes. People with disabilities are stigmatized, no matter how successful they are. Major body alterations – depending what they are – are viewed similarly. If you can get to him before—”

Eva cut him off. “Understood. I’m going now.” The screaming began to fade almost immediately as Eva started to make tracks – it was distance, not comfort or relief that caused the volume to decrease.

Bowdaar grunted from somewhere nearby, “I’m going with you.”

As Eva moved, voices near her were picked up by the still-open comm link. “Are you going now?” “I got a bone to pick with the head nurse.” 

The babble continued as Eva reached the outer doors. “Bowie, you want to introduce them to the guard’s weapons cache? I’ll go ahead.”

More voices chimed in. “My father taught me –” “It’s point and shoot, right?” “I _was_ a security guard at a store on Coruscant before this whole mess started—” 

The commlink went as the sound levels dropped. 

Lana gazed at the telemetry flowing in and at the progress both Eva and the _Thief_ were making. “She should be able to infiltrate just as the _Thief_ comes in range. Bowdaar looks as if he’s figured out who can already shoot and he’s moving with them toward her. Obviously, he’s not stealthed, but she is.” 

Theron nodded, silent. 

“Hey, Bacca,” Eva said through the commlink. “I’m not moving on this until you get here – security is starting to swarm. They know something happened over at the other camp.”

“I left a few of the armed women back at the camp in case there is trouble. I have a small group with me – one was a nurse before all of this.” 

Theron thought to himself about other lives, interrupted, that he’d done the victim debrief for. So few had actually gone back to their old lives prior to captivity. 

“ _Thief_ to Captain. We’re seeing some chatter, and we’re in range,” Corso’s voice came through.

“Jam it.”

Theron spoke up. “Just be aware the jam will attract their attention and speed up the flow from the men’s camp. More to deal with now, less later. Granted, the jam will keep the Nova Blades _not_ already at the camp from coming. Be careful.”

“Aye aye.” 

The two spies watched as gradually, the tracked dots of the ship, Eva, and Bowdaar and his cluster of vengeful women descended upon the medical camp. 

“Bacca, I’m seeing a guard rotation. You almost here?”

“Yes. Go ahead and create the distraction.”

Theron and Lana exchanged a look. There were some things that they were not privy to, and that was perfectly fine, for the sake of their sanities. 

Ten minutes later, the commlink activated with a blast. Theron stepped back from his speakers and reached up to his implants to dial down the volume. 

“Need to work on your fuse length, Cap,” Corso quipped. “I felt that from back here.” 

“So I miscalculated, slightly. Ready?”

Bowdaar let out a battlecry in response, making Theron doubly pleased with himself that he’d adjusted the volume. 

Minutes passed.

Then.

“Bacca, where are you?” Blaster fire was ricocheting off walls, and alarms were going off from inside the medical center’s buildings, from the sound of it. 

No response. 

“Captain to ship, where is he? Sorta assumed he was behind me as usual and – ” A crackling noise burst through the comm and Eva cursed. “I’m in cross-fire – nobody was covering my back.”

“That’s not like him.” Risha sounded worried. “That’s really, really not like him at all.” A few switches were flipped and a beep went off. “He’s alive. Conscious. Fine. Just not moving. Looks like he was trying to sneak directly into the ward itself and take them from behind while you made your ruckus. He just…never came through.” 

“That _was_ the plan. He’d lead any ambulatory cases to you guys, then get the patients that couldn’t move to cover before blockading the ward. The women still near him?” Eva asked, her voice echoing off the floor. She was taking cover, low on the ground.

“They haven’t run off and gone rogue, if that’s your question. 

“Yup, ‘tis.” There was one, two grunts, and then a delay of about ten seconds. Then two explosions registered. Theron and Lana watched as Eva’s dot streaked back out of the medical center to the outdoors, the commlink occasionally picking up her coughing. 

“Where?” she wheezed out. A “zoop” noise indicated his tracked position was sent over to Eva. 

Theron was able to intercept the signal as well. Bowdaar was just beyond the ward doors. Stopped. None of the life forms within the ward had moved during this process – nobody had gone out to Bowdaar, and he and his group hadn’t come in.

“I got visual. Give me a minute to check in with the big guy. Sorry, spies.”

Then Eva switched the comm off. 

Lana let out an exasperated sigh. “Can you get her back?” 

Theron shook his head. “I’ll give her a minute, literally, before hailing her.” 

Inwardly, Theron didn’t wait the minute. With ease, he sliced through the _Thief_ ’s prefix codes to port her commlink directly into his head and kept it to himself. 

He had told her that it was his op too. If something was misfiring or not working – even if it was a 10-foot-tall Wookiee – it was his business. And this wasn’t a bug she’d stomp on once she found it. Simply put, she wouldn’t find this.

“????” Theron heard her call out when she was several yards away. He frowned – his translator caught a “questioning familiar manner” in her inflection and intonation in Shyriiwook, but no words. He wondered if it was his personal name in his home language – such things had no Galactic Basic equivalent. 

She repeated herself as she was within a few feet of him. There was still no response. 

“He just froze up,” offered one of the women nearby. “He’d cleared out the guards here, drew close to the ward with the doors open and… he just _stopped_.” Theron could hear the shrug and the confusion in her voice. 

“?????, it’s ????.” Definitely names in the language, not translatable beyond the intonation of “familiar manner” that his translator suggested. Theron really was going to have to learn Shyriiwook if he was ever going to keep up with these two.

There was a sudden fuss – “Grab him –” “He’s huge, be careful.” “Let him down easy, it’s a long way down for him.” Different voices chimed in.

Theron assumed that Bowdaar was now sitting on the ground now, with the assistance of at least four women. Only one continued to speak in Shyriiwook. “What happened?” she whispered to him. 

He let out a long groan. “The smells. It is one thing to see and know. It is the unseen, the unknown – the burning stopper of blood, the smoke it makes, the sickness and waste that flows out of there.” There was a thumping noise, Bowie hitting something. “This place, this place forsaken by justice – it…”

“It’s different,” she crooned, her voice sounding like that of a Wookiee child. “We buy slaves at market, set them free. We let loose 20 or 30 from a holding pen. This place – this place is bottom. They linger here. The worst happens.”

“For many, yes.”

“For you.”

Another groan, slightly higher pitched. “?????” That name for Eva again. “Find that Gran boy. Too many Hutts like their singers young, permanently.” 

Eva’s breath caught. “You need to get home. You can’t – it’s too dangerous for you.”

“I failed you.” Quiet huffing, not laughter. 

There was a pause, and Theron could imagine those dark eyes go soft at the edges and that head shake. “Someone smarter than me once said that some things are riskier for you than for others…let’s get someone else here, ?????.” 

A mournful noise erupted. Theron cut the comm. He’d heard enough, plus Eva was likely to signal the ship in the next few minutes. 

In that moment, Theron felt justified in every action he’d taken to break sentient trafficking rings – even the one where he’d nearly had his arm ripped off of him, even the one where he’d ended up having three vertebrae in his spine fused, even the one that cost him most of his natural teeth.

The arm healed (ugly but fully functional), the back only hurt when it rained for three days straight, and dental implants stood up better to caf staining. 

Eva activated the commlink, bridging both the _Thief_ and the spies together. “Captain to ship, I need some assistance down here. Bacca needs some time off the line.”

“You need some relief, too, Captain?” Akaavi asked, swiftly.

“They know me down here. I’m staying. And don’t even think about getting up, ShriekHawk.”

“I’ll go,” Guss volunteered. 

“You’re supposed to be asleep.” Eva hadn’t expected to hear him – neither had Theron after the previous night; Corso had come back as Eva and Theron we’re cleaning up medbay, but Guss hadn’t. 

“Supposed to, but I’m not. I’m the least risky person you’ve got available, Captain.”

Theron was willing to bet who that “smarter someone” was now. 

Eva didn’t hesitate long. “Down you come, Fishman.”

“Fishman?” asked one of the women, wary.

Eva picked upon her concern immediately. “Mon Calamari. He’s barely taller than I am and completely biologically incompatible with everyone on this planet. He’s a fast talker but harmless.” 

“Tell her I’ll probably be more afraid of her than she will be of me,” Guss tried offer helpfully over the commlink.

**

After some brief discussion, Guss’s arrival, and Bowdaar’s departure, the small group took the ward from within. The Red Hulls that had tagged along in _Virtue’s Thief’s_ cargo bay made quick work of getting the medical camp into decent order. The Bith – Tomoto, Theron had learned – was brisk and efficient in triage. 

_The Warthog_ arrived. Jakarro said he’d stick around to watch the skies for the Aurore, make sure she didn’t fly into anything. Then he’d take a group of Rishi natives back, if they could comm contacts and have somewhere to go. 

The Gran boy was found to be unharmed; he’d had an adverse response to the anesthetic and had his procedures delayed until the following day; the buyer wouldn’t accept damaged goods.

Nobody checked the records to see what was to be done. He didn’t know either, and it was left at that. He was sent back to his mother. 

With adequate numbers, the final liberation of the men’s camp began. After the initial incursion, the remaining guards knew nobody was coming to help them; they surrendered. 

While there was still light out and Lana had excused herself to use the downstairs lavatory, Theron privately commed Eva. “You ok, Captain?” 

She sighed. “Still sweeping the men’s camp, making sure there aren’t any loose ends hiding in plain sight. Anyone who was in the medical center is going with your friend. Then it’s a matter of who’s been here the longest. _Warthog_ is giving a lift back to Raider’s Cove for anyone who’s from Rishi in the first place. One less thing for us to wrestle with.”

Theron nodded to himself. “Right. You ok, Captain?”

A breathless and mirthless “heh” was her initial response, follow up by, “No, not really. But they know me now. They know the great Red Hulls now.”

“Switch off with someone who can run the show.”

“Nah. They have their parts to play back on ship.” 

“Not everyone who has skills is on your ship.” He could totally find a swoop bike, get out there. He’d done this sort of thing before.

“To be honest? You ‘re a man and Lana is a Sith. Let us handle this,” came the brusque response. 

That dashed that idea. 

“Say hi to my friend for me,” Theron said lightly. She hummed an affirmation and then the line went dead. He couldn’t help but feel disquieted. Theron was missing a piece of intel, and he did not like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The keeping of former slaves and victims in place is actually exactly what the Allies had to do in 1945, when they found over 11 million people still alive in concentration camps (there were many types, not just death camps: labor camps, re-education, railroad building, scientific experimentation, prison, etc). The camps were cleaned, curtains hung, heating installed, soldiers and doctors brought in to care for these people ... but people were still in the same place where they suffered and their loved ones died. "Concentration camps" became "Displaced People's camps" and they operated from 1945 to 1952. There was no other place that had infrastructure already in place to enable care for these people; there were no fast-track immigration movements or places that flung open their doors to these people. The solution in this chapter is rooted in history.


	12. The Limits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are certain lines that can't be crossed -- dealbreakers, limits that people cannot tolerate beyond a certain point. 
> 
> There are always consequences for reaching so far and so fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've taken the liberty of having Teff'ith show up in person here; I really do wish she would come into SWTOR, but given that's nearly 15 years since Ascendant Spear in the current timeline, I don't know whether that would work.

# Day 5

Theron’s contact was late. “She’s running out of light, Harpy,” Jarkarro complained to Eva over the commlink. 

“Tell me about it. I’ve got patients ready to move and a bunch of people throwing dice for the extra spaces. The longer this takes, the worse it is.” Eva felt as if her entire body was coated in blaster smoke, Rishi sand, and a fine dusting of metal shavings she’d picked up when she’d had to hit the deck inside some of the buildings. 

Her head was dull and heavy. She wasn’t sharp anymore.

Beyond herself, the longer Teff’ith took to get here, the longer she’d take to get back, the longer this camp had to remain as a functional refugee camp in order to support life. Eva was leaving the logistics to Risha and Rogun on this one, but she already knew the longer this went on, the worse it was for everyone.

Finally, Jakarro said, “Aha. All yours.” She was here, descending down to their rendezvous point in the promised Aurore-class ship. 

Eva waited impatiently for the ship’s captain to emerge. Eventually, the yellow Twi’lek disembarked. She still wore the silver and ruby helmet in the intel holo Eva had of her on ship. 

Little time was afforded for niceties. “You work with Theron?” Teff’ith asked accusatorially, a hand on her hip and a finger pointing at Eva.

Eva nodded, but she couldn’t hide the annoyance in her face and her voice. “You’re late.” She crossed her arms.

Teff’ith seemed to ignore the criticism. “Theron’s always stupid. Says we can’t meet up, can’t call back, because of ‘known associate’. What did he do?” Before Eva could even try to tackle that question, she had moved on. “Whatever. Probably stupid. He said we could help with slaves?” She pivoted to look around the dock, just as impatient as Eva was to hit the hyperlanes.

That, Eva could deliver in a more concise manner. “We were all expecting a few hundred – you could have carried them all in one or two trips. We’re closer to 3,000, and the _first_ few hundred need medical care.” 

Teff’ith just cursed for a good minute in response, the Rylothean occasionally punctuated by ‘stupid,’ ‘Theron,’ and ‘Jedi.’ 

Eva tried to disrupt the tirade long enough to get a few words in edge-wise. “I get that you gave up a lot of money when you stopped running in slaver circles –”

“We couldn’t afford after stupid Voidwolf got killed. Now Republic rules more common – slavery risky. Better to run things now,” Teff’ith huffed. “Where we take these slaves? We aren’t paying for doctors – not out of what Theron paid us.” 

Seems the SIS slush fund was still somewhat operational….or Theron had scraped enough on his own to ensure her cooperation. A thought was spared for the sorry state of his wardrobe and the disappearance of the swoop bike she’d seen on Nar Shaddaa, and Eva quickly concluded it was the latter situation. “I can front the cost. Where were you planning on taking them?”

Teff’ith shook her head. “Can’t. We take them to colonies – not injured or sick. Now they need doctor?” Teff’ith threw up her hands. “We are smuggler, not doctor.” 

Eva’s brain rattled. She’d gone too long. She was getting foggy. But what was one ship? He’d said no to a fleet, but one ship --! “You in trouble with Voidfleet? Can you go to Port Nowhere?”

Teff’ith warily looked at her, her nose scrunching up as if she smelled something foul.

Eva rushed onward. “Listen, do you know Rogun the Butcher?”

“We killed for Rogun the Butcher,” Teff’ith stiffly replied. 

Yes, she had made the right connection in her head. Good! But first – “You didn’t screw up any contracts with him? Didn’t get any blasters stolen by separatists, kill his friends, accidentally conspire against him and end up --?”

Eva’s words fumbled to an awkward halt; Teff’ith was staring at her as if she’d grown a second head and three tails. “Theron’s friend strange. VERY strange.”

“Did you leave it with him on good terms?” Eva asked, exasperated.

Teff’ith nodded, cautiously.

“Great, go to him with the injured, say I sent you. He’ll pay you, restock the ship, take care of them. Once you get the sick and injured there, you come back and take the rest to whatever spaceport you want. I can pay you for each trip.

Teff’ith crossed her arms, the tips of her lekku twitching, as if trying to detect a con. “Credits now. Had to wait with Theron, but we know him. Don’t know you. Don’t want to get caught coming back here.”

What’s the point of all that hard power, all those hard credits, if you can’t change the galaxy?

Impetuously, Eva pulled out her datapad and drew up a figure – might have been a little exorbitant, but she did place third at that last competition she’d been in. The one she threw. She thrust the datapad at Teff’ith. “That enough for you to take them and find people you _trust_ to come back around to Rishi? Nice little finder’s fee for you, good credits for them.”

Teff’ith didn’t took the datapad right away. She gave the number a look from a safe distance, then let her eyes take in the guise of pirate captain. “We do not think you are as you are.”

“No.” 

“Rogun the Butcher listens to you?”

“Yes.”

“And you Theron’s friend?”

“Yes.”

Teff’ith studied the smuggler with a critical eye. Then, she scoffed, making some comment in Rylothean involving Theron again, something involving his parents and now her – Eva’s head was pounding away as she waited for Twi to stop bitching and _take_ the datapad and fill in her information. She gestured with the device again. “Just put in your transfer number, and it’ll go through. Just guarantee me all of them get out of here safely and they stay free.”

Teff’ith extended a delicate, lady-like finger, typed in her numbers, and made her mark. “Consider it done.” She never had taken the datapad out of Eva’s hand. “We make trips. We have friends make trips. Former slaves behave on this job.”

Eva made the datapad disappear back into the folds of her captain’s coat. “No matter how much Theron likes you, I will find you.”

Teff’ith smirked at her this time. “We are not stupid. We see you.”

Eva hesitated before replying. “Good.” She swallowed and gestured to Teff’ith to follow her into the med center and begin the transfer of patients. “Theron says hi, by the way.” 

**

# Day 6

Sometime in the small hours of the morning, Eva made it to her hot water shower. A sandy grey sluice was left behind; she’d have C2 deal with it in a few days.

She didn’t want to feel anything anymore. Tying up loose ends was exhausting. 

2,956 lives. 

Over 40 women were pregnant – 2 were touch and go. Some knew the father was waiting for them somewhere. Others weren’t so lucky. 

104 children. Most were with their mothers. Some were alone.

The worst part of it all was that they wanted to talk to her. 

She didn’t want to know.

Most of them had been there less than a year. That meant there had been others before them. And others before them. And others before them. 

Even as Darmas rotted in prison, his curse on this planet continue to take, take, take.

Bowie had made some crazy request. She said ok to it, whatever it was. Slavers were scum – nobody would care. 

Her last act ‘on duty’ was to signal that they’d debrief after she’d had a day off.

Then came the severance.

She had to remember she didn’t care anymore. It wasn’t her problem. Never had been. 

That was the truth. She thought. They – they tried to make it her fault. 

The evidence pointed elsewhere. But she –

Wasn’t a child. Wasn’t too young for this game.

Doubt. Doubt remained.

_The last day of hearings, there had been a mob in the courtroom hallway. She blended in easily – she was nobody, just another faceless clerk or some court reporter or some other ordinary girl on Coruscant. As Darmas had been marched out, the press had descended on him, asking questions, getting holos for the nightly news. The guards had pushed him through, around the corner – and right into her, holding a stack of flimsi. She froze in place, like any innocent young thing face to face with the awful and terrible Darmas Pollaran._

_In the confusion as the guards picked up her stuff for her, Darmas whispered to her, desperately: “If you believed I ever loved you, then play dumb. For once in your brilliant little life, play dumb.”_

_Then he was gone, her arms filled with the dropped paperwork, perfectly stacked._

_Eva didn’t know what he meant. She didn’t understand any better when she visited him the following year and broke his face into pieces._

Eva woke up, again and again in the middle of the night. Each time it happened, something more – something more to kill the feelings, something more to smother what remained.

Darmas Polllaran was the person she had loved the most in her life. Darmas Pollaran was the person she hated most in her life. The passage of time did little to clear up that contradiction.

Other substances could at least wipe it from her mind for a few hours, making a dreamless sleep.

But the dreams always did return on this planet, this great monument to blindness and dumb naivete. 

Eva had promises to keep. Wrongs to right, no matter how impossible. If she needed a push to do it, that was the price she’d pay.

Numbness. Nothing but phantom feelings that slipped away too quickly to be identified.

If she could contain it, keep it in this room – then no foul. No harm came to her ship or to her crew, she won. No news out to the spies – they paid for her work, not her day off. Or they would, when it was all over.

Sometimes, she allowed her mind to drift beyond the event horizon of this op – things he’d said to her “after all this is over.” But too quickly, she would remember the kind of person he was, the work he did. In a moment of clarity, she knew she’d lost, would lose --

Any time something close to an emotion appeared – she slew that dragon. 

Even the good ones.

She didn’t want to feel anymore.

**

# Day 7

She was late. Theron stared at the door as that critical minute, the one she always arrived in ticked by, then the moment of the meeting was upon them. 

Eva was late for the first time in their association. No matter how damn early Lana had positioned those meetings, she had not missed it. No matter how dangerous it had been, she had made it to Manaan. No matter how long he had spent on a holo call with Satele, she had been punctual and never said a word about his priorities and business. 

She was late, and he was worried.

Lana noticed. Whether she noticed one or both, she did not let on. All she said, placidly, was, “You should go find her.”

Theron didn’t need to be told twice. He only hesitated in his choice for a moment – it was a clear day. He wore the red jacket. 

He wove through the street patterns he had programmed into his implants – dodge this camera here, that one over there. Steer clear of a turf war, avoid this, avoid that.

Theron swiftly moved up the docks to hide in the great shadow cast by _Virtue’s Thief_. His eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, and he could see Guss beneath the ship. Theron scanned the area immediately around him, and he allowed his boot to strike a discarded piece of metal, letting Guss know he was here.

Guss whirled around, his large eyes blinking rapidly trying to see the source. “Oh, hi.” He blinked once, then twice. Then Theron watched as the pieces clicked together for him. “She’s late, isn’t she?”

Theron nodded. “Is she--?”

The lack of eye contact as Guss said, “Just give her a few minutes. She’ll be out soon” made Theron instinctively start heading up the open gangplank. Given that Guss was outside – he tried the door and found it to be unlocked. “Spike! Spy Guy!” he faintly heard the protests beneath the ship.

His gut hadn’t failed him yet. He would find the answer. 

The rest of the ship was empty – likely all gone to the warehouse. Except her. Eva had slept in. Eva was late. This wasn’t like her.

He rounded the hallway of the ship and without hesitation knocked on her door. He heard her curse, and he heard the flurry of activity. “I _know_. I _know_.” 

Theron frowned deeply. Something was gnawing inside him, urging him to go in. Something was _wrong_. 

But that wasn’t any of his business. She was his asset. After the op was over, he probably could barge into her bedroom – hopefully, she’d encourage it. 

Now? 

This was a professional boundary he did not cross. Theron liked risk, but he also needed to see this op through without getting tangled and twisted in … whatever it was that drove him to her door. The galaxy mattered more than her. 

The noise behind the door reflected the speed with which she was trying to get ready, more foul language voiced in frustration. There was a frantic quality to it all that, Theron thought, did not quite match an “oops, I forgot to turn on my alarm chrono.”

Too much pressed his curiosity. This op mattered too much for him not to –

When the door finally slid open, Theron leaned back against the wall that divided her door from the galley, with a foot angled to prevent the door from closing immediately. For a moment, Eva seemed off-balance, looking for the source of the knocking. He watched her face, rushed and hurried on this bright morning. 

Pupils large, eyes darting. An almost unnatural flush at the center of her face as the rest of her remained almost too pale –

Another curse, and her hand went up to her face again as she felt it – but not quick enough that Theron didn’t see it.

Nosebleed.

That’s all he needed to pivot on that foot in her doorway and turn himself inward toward the chaos that had become her quarters. Drawers still half open, a deliberately off-white shirt (stained with tea? Possibly, knowing her), cast aside, fresh drops of blood on it. That had caused the early morning panic. He only had to crane his neck slightly to see the waste bin next to the desk. It was filled with empty alcohol containers – they were neatly rinsed out and arranged so the bin wouldn’t overflow – a long-practiced habit. Then, just peering out from beneath that discarded shirt ---

Theron’s heart missed a beat as he stared at what he thought he was seeing on that dressing table. That wasn’t what he’d expected. He reached for it as one might reach for a venomous snake, hoping to grab it and keep its dangerous mouth at bay. The object was old – Theron had to be mindful not to clamp down on it with all his strength or else he would shatter it.

One thing at a time – he opened the box. 

He found what he expected. 

Medium grade: nothing fancy like glitterstim, nothing dangerous like glitteryl, nothing low quality as to be indigenous to Rishi. Something in the middle. Something that would achieve the objective at a price that wouldn’t destroy her own business. 

All in all, Eva’s choice of spice was that of a reasonable woman. 

Minus the part where she was indulging in spice.

“I got the slaves off the island,” Eva said, voice as unsteady as her stance. “It was a difficult day.”

“We heard.” Theron’s voice was flat to his own ears as he continued to look at the contents of the old box. “Word of your raids is going around fast. Even the Revanites have heard about the great Red Hulls.” The last three words were drawn out, paced, over-dramatized. He let his eyes travel to her face. She was indignant. He didn’t care. “How long has this been going on?”

“What, the snort in the morning?” Eva shrugged. “As long as Lana’s meetings. A few days. A week.” The smuggler then had the gall to shake a finger at him. “The Sith needs to stop giving us 0900 meetings when she knows damn well we’re up til dawn running the front.”

The anger she tried to convey was undone as another drop of blood escaped from a nostril. Theron’s hand was quicker than hers, and she froze ---

He didn’t strike her. 

He did worse, based upon the look in her eyes.

He wiped the blood away with his thumb, and her anger fled. He wasn’t sure what was left behind – hollowness. Maybe.

“Guessing from what’s left in here, I’d say weeks, at least.” He studied her face again, and she withstood her scrutiny. “You were clean on Katalla. If I threw you under your medbay computer, would you even have a septum left?” 

Eva stepped back from him, and his hand didn’t follow. “The op has been difficult,” she said, again, as if that made everything acceptable to him.

Theron returned his gaze to the box and snapped it shut. “This doesn’t help. I’ve worked vice – this never makes anything easier. For you. For those around you.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never –”

“I’m smart enough to know I don’t have people that will fix it or run interference for me when I make mistakes,” Theron cut her off swiftly. “If you think I believe your crew didn’t know about this, you must really think I’m all flash and no substance --- just something pretty to look at rather than competent.”

The expression on her face indicated she hadn’t thought that, but it didn’t matter. Eva’s lip curled back in a snarl. “I’m still doing the job you asked me for. This morning was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

“Yes, I think you’ll always make it a point to be on time from now on.” 

That’s the way they kept going, the people Theron saw slide down into this. They made sure they didn’t screw up when it mattered. They could live for their days off, until they couldn’t. Until it got too big, too much, too needy. 

But it wasn’t just what was _in_ the box that bothered him. Theron ran his eyes over the closed box to make sure he was looking at what he _thought_ he was looking at. He had to ask her now, and he tapped the box deliberately with a finger. Her gaze followed easily. “Is this from him?” Theron asked quietly.

“Him who?” Eva seemed confused at the question, as if it was non sequitur in her mind. 

Maybe it was. “Darmas Pollaran,” he clarified. “Did he give this to you?”

Eva physically took a step back, her face nothing but disgust now. “What the hell makes you think that?”

Theron tried to keep an even tone. “This is a collector’s item. It’s an early Imperial casket that used to carry the engineering room keys to destroyers – they were using keys 50 or so years ago, when the Empire first reappeared. Where did you get this?”

No less repulsed, Eva continued to pull away from him in the hallway. “Family heirloom.”

“Yours or his?” She hadn’t said no, and Theron stepped forward to keep her in range.

“Mine,” Eva said firmly. Despite the state of her pupils, Theron couldn’t detect any dishonesty. 

The anger that had been bubbling under within Theron developed a sudden edge of unease, of nausea. “Where did you get this?” he repeated the question.

So much for hiding himself behind SIS screens and training -- Eva noticed the change in his demeanor almost immediately. Now she stopped moving backwards. She instead pounced on the tangent. “What are you more upset about -- the box or the spice inside?”

“I know where you got the supply. I’m asking about this.” He had to consciously restrain himself from squeezing the box into tiny little metallic-wood pieces. It was a luxury item, a privileged item, a high-ranking Imperial officer’s item. “ _Why_ do you have this?”

“Imp officer in the family tree, I guess.” Eva shrugged. “Stories. Stories and that box – that’s all I have.”

“What stories?” Theron asked her, the cold creeping into his voice. This wasn’t a market item. It wasn’t a token passed off to a one-night stand. He knew how they circulated. He knew what scandal accompanied the loss or inappropriate ownership of these boxes. 

If this wasn’t inappropriate…

Eva threw up her hands. “What do you care? I’m late for a meeting regarding your op. I’m sorry. Let’s move on.” She held out a hand, fingers flicking toward herself, the universal sign for “give me that.”

As she took the box from him, Theron’s mind and heart were already in an active war. His head reminded him of all that she was: a criminal, a smuggler, a drug runner, a dealer, and now a user. The list went on why she had _always_ been a bad idea. Use her for the op. Then it’s done.

And yet something lay beneath the surface of the dark, still water at the center of her overstimulated eyes. He was no Jedi, but Theron’s gut had rarely failed him where something was not quite right. He should ask her, grab her, tell her---

No.

“I fold.” Theron turned his back on her before he could see her face, but he heard the strangled inhale. She knew what he meant. “The op will continue. You – you get what you want for your payment. See you at the briefing.” 

And then he was gone. He rounded the _Thief’s_ hallway, probably for the last time, his legs carrying him down the gangplank into the harsh light of the morning. He moved through the crowd.

He had to leave her behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A characterization note: On behalf of SIS, Theron has seen the underbelly of the drug trade and the sentient trafficking trade; he knows it leads nowhere good, not only for the person directly involved, but all the people they know that might get dragged down with them when the bubble pops. Family members who thought they were helping, partners who were trying to be compassionate, even casual acquaintances that just chalked up certain behaviors as quirks: they all suffer when the person hits the wall. Theron will still work with her, but until more information comes out, he can't invest himself personally in Eva. That's self-preservation, and there's nothing wrong with that.


	13. Rishi Op, Day 7: No Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are no secrets among the crew of Virtue's Thief, no matter how hard the Captain might try to close the door. And no matter who tries to protect her, Theron will find the answer.

Eva arrived ten minutes, thirty seconds after Theron did. He timed it. He saw her eyes flicker in the dim lights of the safehouse toward him then toward Lana, gauging if Theron had said anything. 

He hadn’t. She was still an active player in this op. He would not compromise their ability to get the job done, no matter how he felt about her private life. 

Theron felt nothing about Eva’s private life. It wasn’t appropriate. 

It was a lot easier to leave her behind this time. 

Lana was onto something, and she was intently tilting her ear toward a transceiver. “Thank you for coming. We just intercepted this transmission from the Nova Blades’ headquarters….. waiting for it to finish up.” Her index finger tapped the console as she waited for everything to buffer. 

At least one of them was in a good mood this morning. 

The three of them watched as a grotesque, large man appeared on their screen. “This is ridiculous! How am I supposed to hold up our part of the deal if you won’t give us any backup when we’re in trouble?”

The screen then split to reveal his conversation partner: Revan. Finally, some sign of him since Rakata Prime. “Commodore Margok, perhaps we should seek other allies. I’m sure there are other crews on this planet who are capable of managing their own affairs. Such as those that have disrupted your operations.”

Margok’s nostrils flared and his face turned a nearly plum color in its anger. “Hey, we’ve done our share! You wanted the shipping lanes raided, we raided ‘em! Pub, Imp – done. You wanted stragglers picked off from the big battles, we did it! Even wore your signs and symbols to do it – we gave up glory for you.”

Theron heard Eva’s weight shift. That was confirmation that _Virtue’s Thief_ had indeed been in a dogfight with the Nova Blades. Not only that, it confirmed Eva’s observation that the two larger governments were being targeted – no longer the Hutt Cartel and _never_ Voidfleet. 

The man in the mask was unimpressed. “And your clumsiness cost us our Mandalorian allies.”

Theron’s hands were quick to bring up his collected intel about the Mandalorians that has settled on Rishi. He’d heard snippets of gossip, some references in communiques from Dromund Kaas, but as far as Mandos went, these were hermits. 

One more very strange thing about Rishi, he supposed. 

Margok scoffed, “Torch and her crew of old fossils? We’re better off without ‘em.”

Revan’s voice became sharper. “And I’m beginning to think we’re better off without you. Deal with your own problems if you want to prove otherwise.” Her terminated the message, and Margok sat on the holoscreen a few seconds longer, fuming. 

When Theron looked up, Eva was staring at the screen, hands on her hips, thinking. “Didn’t know there were Mandalorians on this planet – pretty sure Akaavi doesn’t know either. When she knows they’re in the area, she does give us a heads up when we’re about to deal with them – they have rules of engagement.” Eva stopped herself from continuing.

The conscious awareness of the tendency to prattle nervously.

Theron smoothly summarized the information on his datapad. “Based on what we do know, they are pretty insular. First presence noted here about ten years ago, settlement permanent within the last five.”

“Anything recent?” Eva asked, looking to him.

He answered, “I’ve heard people around town mention Torch, but I didn’t realize she was tied to the Nova Blades or the Revanites. Might be a good lead for later. Dealing with the Nova Blades is more critical.”

Eva paused for a moment, rolling the situation around in her head once. “We have Revan and his followers fooled as far as thinking the Red Hulls are just upstart pirates. Impressive upstart pirates. We’d better move quickly – if the Revanites cut the Nova Blades out and start looking elsewhere for help, there may not be any information left to recover if they wipe the banks.”

Lana dismissed the intercepted holo transmission and nodded. “I agree. Speed is essential now.” She brought up a holo image of a large, aged shipwreck. 

Theron took that as his cue. “The Nova Blades are based out of an old crashed warship: _The_ _Aggressor_. You’ve probably seen it, off in the distance on Horizon Island. This is essentially their mothership –this is the primary living and working space the Nova Blades have occupied over the years.”

Eva pursed her lips as she looked at the image. “Some might call it dirty pool to attack a person’s home. King and his castle.”

“You need to hit them hard – make it look like the goal is to completely crush them so nobody notices when we raid their computer cores for intel,” Theron insisted, narrowing his eyes at her. “Remember, this is about the Red Hulls and the Nova Blades – it’s a front.”

“Oh, I didn’t include myself in the ‘some.’ My crew and I have no issue with destroying slavers livelihoods and lives.” An uglier, angrier express crossed her face. “As Risha says, they probably view themselves as humanitarians for not killing people – we don’t share that view,” she finished coldly.

Lana’s eyes darted over to the ship trackers. “In that regard, I can tell you that people are continuing to be moved off Rishi to different space ports around Republic space, as promised. I’ve asked Jakarro to refuel his ship and assist you in this present planet-side matter. While you approach _The Aggressor_ , you can use your target designator to call for his assistance, just like before.”

Eva stepped back from the meeting space. “Sounds like fun,” she said lightly as she moved toward the door. “I’ll get in touch when I hit _The Aggressor_ , so you can start pulling together a victory party at the cantina.” 

Theron had to suppress a smile as he watched her swagger – he shouldn’t do that anymore. 

Lana called to her as she headed out the door, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Good luck,” Theron called as he turned back toward the mainframe. 

That was appropriate.

**

Within two hours, Eva confirmed that she and Corso had reached Horizon Island. They were running a stealth reconnaissance first around the island before approaching _The Aggressor_ directly; the ship consumed most of the land, but there were enough outbuildings that were large enough to house anti-aircraft measures. It was decided preferred that Jakarro and _The Warthog_ not be shot at.

As Lana was in deep discussion with the ground team and Jakarro, Theron suddenly realized his private line was being pinged by _Virtue’s Thief_. He could hear Eva’s voice on the line with Jakarro and Lana, so it was not her.

Theron shifted his work to the far end of the work room, an eye on Lana’s back the entire time. “I read you,” he muttered quietly. 

“You alone?” Theron blinked a few times. Risha? This day was getting stranger by the second. 

Still keeping an eye on Lana and on the rest of the mission, Theron replied, keeping his voice low. “Yeah. What do you need, Risha?”

“I want you here tonight.”

“That’s not appropriate.” That seemed to be the catchphrase of the day, both in his head and out loud.

Risha huffed. “You don’t understand. The day before yesterday –”

“Was a difficult day. I heard that earlier.” Theron had the urge to disconnect the comm. He _wasn’t_ going to --

“You apparently didn’t hear me still in the galley with my caf.”

He had to admit, he was a little distracted. Theron kept silent.

Risha continued, “It wasn’t just a bad day for her. It was a bad day for Bowdaar.” 

“I gathered.”

“You know what they did to him?”

“Yes.”

“That’s part of why _she’s_ so bad. The thing is…” Theron heard Risha sigh. The normally direct and witty Risha Drayen appeared to be searching for words. “You know Bowdaar was freed by our dear Captain, right?”

“Yes.” 

“He’s the one responsible adult on this ship, honestly. He consistently makes sure all of us eat and sleep. Eva is my closest friend, but I can’t control her. We’re too friendly for that. She can pull rank on me if I’m too hung up on myself, not the other way around. Bowie anchors her.” 

“Why do you need me there, then?”

He heard her shuffle somewhere, the ambient background noise around her fading slightly. In that moment, Theron realized that Risha was _hiding_ somewhere on the ship to make this call. “Bowie… has decided to abdicate that responsibility for now. He asked Eva for permission and she gave him whatever he wanted – after that day.”

A sense of dread arced through him, again. “What did he ask for?”

“There were a few surviving traffickers from the raid. Some of them were particularly unrepentant. Bowie… asked for the Red Hulls to take them alive. He wants to punish them by using them as live targets. From what he’s grunted about over the last few days, he’s going to throw them in the air, one by one, and shoot them with a bowcaster he’s borrowed from Jakarro.” 

Theron felt his eyes practically bulge out of his head. “ _That’s_ the voice of reason? And Eva said yes?”

“Oh, she thinks it’s a great idea. She might help. But she’s not ok. She is seriously not ok.” Risha sounded suspiciously emotional and not like herself at all.

“Risha?”

It finally came out, angry and hot. “Bowdaar kept her on course after everything that happened a few years ago. He’s not doing it now.”

“He hasn’t been doing it for weeks, from the look of it.”

“It … wasn’t obvious. She kept it minimal. I – could tell.”

Theron didn’t answer. His eyes watched as the two pinpoints marked as Eva and Corso curved around the island. He’d heard it before, from sisters and housemates that swore the problem was under control, until it wasn’t.

“I didn’t even realize it until she knew my personal supply was empty before I did.”

Theron couldn’t help his response. “Kriff.” 

Risha’s haughtiness returned, momentarily. “Three orphans in their early twenties running around Nar Shadaa with more credits than braincells and a constant fear of any touch of boredom. The majority of us didn’t turn out _just fine_.” A pause for a moment. “Eva is safe with Corso around. He’s not as effective as Bowdaar, but for today – he’s the one. But what happens when work is over…” 

Theron didn’t answer.

“This isn’t normal for her.”

He didn’t care. He wasn’t involved personally anymore.

“Theron –”

“It’s business between her and me, Risha. I don’t know what gambling pool you had on the pair of us, but it’s irrelevant. My chief concern is this operation finishing and exposing a galactic conspiracy. What she does in her off-time – it’s better I don’t know.”

Theron disconnected her and instead hooked himself up to a database he’d left half searched the previous day. He calibrated his implants, set up a notification for when the slice on _The Aggressor_ was activated, and took a deep dive.

As his implants did their initial spider’s crawl across those mainframes, Theron’s internal monologue rambled on. He had an operation to manage. This wasn’t the time for her to try to make good money on a betting pool or be a good wingman. His temper simmered. Eva had gotten into something since the last time he saw her. It changed things. He didn’t want to play anymore. That was it. That was the smart decision for him.

Being attached to people was already difficult. He knew his limits. He had told her from the beginning, if there was a choice, he would make it. For the sake of the Republic, he wasn’t going to sink to the bottom with her. Other SIS agents hadn’t made the right decision on that count, and it wasn’t just with assets.

Hell, it was how he shot up through the ranks so quickly. The high-stress life, the ugliness of it all – SIS agents fought a long war of attrition. Many didn’t make it to retirement age, which was why those packages were so generous to survivors. 

Theron had his calendar marked for the month before he turned 37. He’d be a twenty-year man by then, and he would have earned _every_ credit. _Every_ perk. 

And then he’d likely stay on, until his knees gave out. Or until they kicked him upstairs to some awful desk job. He didn’t want to end up like Trant, who did a poor job of hiding how much he missed the field. He did want to see the future, so he hardly had a death wish.

It just happened that sometimes, the personal risk to Theron was worth that better future. 

This wasn’t those times. He was willing to be civil for –

What the –

Theron sensed his implants alerting him to an SIS protocol droid in the vicinity that needed an agent to address a vital security concern. T3 was sitting right there in the safe house – it was _not_ an emergency. Yet the little droid was singing out a distress call, right into his implants, and he was doing it in a way that Theron could not ignore. 

It was deliberately designed to be one of the more annoying sounds in existence.

With an angry growl, Theron pulled himself out of the database, slamming the proverbial security doors behind him. As soon as he was ‘back’ in the safehouse’s main room, he heard himself say to Lana, “T3 is having an issue – I need to take him to the other room to deal with it. Republic security thing. Do you mind?”

“No, go ahead, Theron. It has been making a strange noise – rather distracting.” Theron glanced at Lana to see her absorbed in the progress of their two teams.

With a brisk motion of his hand, Theron indicated that T3 follow him to the back room. There was a lopsided couch, a chair with a creaky leg, and a low table scattered with some of the papers they occasionally brought in to keep themselves somewhat aware of the outside work. He rarely was in here – Lana was the one who actually took a break once in a while.

Theron gave T3 a sour look. “Divided loyalties, now?”

T3 made a noise, and Theron couldn’t describe it as anything other a stubborn pout. “Smuggler = friend = Risha = friend. You = listen.”

Theron closed his eyes in frustration. Too much damn personality. “Fine. Pipe her through.”

Instead of the audio only, T3 was able to send a holo image of Risha standing at the engineering console, hand pressed tightly to her ear. “Some messages are best conveyed in person. Or the closest thing to it.”

Theron didn’t answer her. He just stood, legs shoulder width apart, arms folded. 

Risha looked like she was about to explain, then she stopped herself. She flinched. “If I was in her shoes and knew a crewmember was doing this, I’d have them executed for mutiny.”

“You’re lucky she’s captain, then,” he said dryly.

“You have no idea.” 

Risha’s hand came away from her ear and she pressed it over her mouth as if –

Theron really hated his gut these days. It was always right. It was right about something being wrong with Eva – and it was right about it being something more than just the drug use. 

“The slave trade on Rishi was Darmas Pollaran’s slush fund – it’s where most of his trafficking came through. This is his – something she has to clean up again.” 

Theron had to wince. “That … isn’t pleasant unfinished business.”

“No. And she’ll tell you it’s all about us being in danger – how she failed us as captain.”

Now his gut was now telling him that wasn’t enough. That intelligence was relayed by that same sour, curdling sensation he’d had back in his apartment as he looked at pictures of Pollaran. He was a spy, a professional, layers upon layers of cover.

_“If I didn’t laugh, I’d cry over it all.”_

“But there’s more.” He said it as a statement, not a question.

Risha’s entire face was pulled downward, and no arrogance or front could conceal it. “Darmas was never a distant or remote handler for the Rishi route. He had his hands and a few other body parts in the slave trade. _Very_ personally involved.” 

Theron’s eyes closed. 

He could hear Risha taking advantage of the fact his eyes were closed; she let her voice crack. “Monster. He was -- .” Risha couldn’t finish the sentence. He kept his eyes shut.

Risha Drayen, daughter of Nok Drayen, had called someone a monster. A chill raced up his spine and remained. “Did he –” The unasked questions made him nauseous.

“That was never the face he showed her. She never –.” Risha cleared her throat. Theron felt it was safe enough to open his eyes again. Risha seemed to past the worst of her mutiny now, and a certain calm had appeared. “Unscathed physically. But – not entirely.” 

For the first time, Risha looked directly into the holo cam that she’d set up in engineering. For the first time, she said directly to him, “He led that life and everything that came with it the entire two-and-a-half years she was with him. And she was one of the last to know.” 

_“Physical trust is easy to give away. It’s easy, temporary, and it only affects me. It’s everything else that really matters, and I’m already in over my head.”_

But it was never just that for her. 

“I’ll be there tonight, Risha.” There was nothing else he could say. 

She nodded. “Thank you.”

Then it was over. She disappeared from his view. Theron was alone with his cold body and his uneasy stomach. 

And a droid that was long overdue for questioning. “You’re lying to someone,” he said to T3, his voice rough. “You told her there was nothing about Rishi and its pirates and its slaves on the SIS network. I found attachments relating to a court case that said otherwise.”

T3’s head spun once. “T3 = not liar. Information = does not exist for smuggler.”

Theron crouched down to look T3 right in his optics. “But it exists for me. And I’m pretty sure you have the clearance to undo the scrub job on the court case.”

“Court case = does not exist. No trial.” 

Theron scowled. “The data still exists. You can get it. Do it. That is a direct order.”

T3’s lights blipped a few times. “Acknowledged.” It was a cold, sullen blurt. 

And now Eva was signaling that the slice was prepped; she needed Theron to do his part. 

At least they could work together. They needed to. 

**

“Eva, found it.” Eva looked over to see Corso pushing away plant life from a small hatch on _The Aggressor_. In retrospect, it was obvious it had been placed there, but Eva wasn’t going to rake herself over the coals for this one – the massive wreck was a twisted mess that had been made more complicated by the additional hallways, walkways, and rooms that were built _after_ it crashed decades, centuries ago. It resembled nothing like the plans that they’d received from Risha on-ship. 

Once the greenery was removed, the hatch hissed open. A nod, and Corso guarded her as she carefully latched her omnitool onto the computer circuitry inside. “Thinking they’re watching us?”

“I’d be surprised if they weren’t, Cap. I think they might notice the ones that are missing by now.” A grin spread across Corso’s face. No love lost on slavers.

Eva adjusted her hat as she tilted her head to watch the omnitool’s lights flicker and bounce. So slow but so effective. A loud click, and Eva’s hand reached to keep attached to the computer as she signalled Theron to start his slice in. 

It took just over a minute – Eva wondered if she’d caught him doing something else. He normally wasn’t slow. A panel next to her flipped open. “Corso,” she hissed.

The two of them flattened themselves on either side of the panel, trying to avoid whatever came out next. Much to their relief, it was a projected holo image of their handler. His hands flew over his board, and a whirl of a holocamera opposite them made it clear that he could see them too. “Good work.” The image flickered a few times.

Then it was gone.

Abruptly, Theron’s form was replaced by the appearance of a particularly infuriated Margok. “You really are insane. Coming after us here?”

“You take people out of their homes on Rishi. Why do you think you’re so special?” Eva shot back. 

He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “You should have stuck with picking on tourists in the Outer Rim, _schutta_!”

Eva almost rolled her eyes at the insult, and she came off the wall to speak to the image. “You’ve sold your last slaves. Between my crew and the people you stole, we got more than enough to hold that camp. The Nova Blades are finished.”

Margok fired back as his image began to warp and fade away – Theron was slicing back in. “We’ll see. The Nova Blades founded Raider’s Cove. We’ve been here long before you, and we’ll still be here long after.”

Before Eva could respond, the man was gone. In his place, Theron stood. “Disabled his ability to transmit to you again. I can get the doors open, but it looks like the Nova Blades have their own slicers on staff, so I can’t get any real data yet.” 

“We’ll take care of them,” Corso spoke up. 

Theron nodded. “Good luck.” 

For a second, Eva thought Theron’s gaze lingered on her for a moment. But it was only for a second – he was gone.

Yeah, he was _gone_ gone. 

She knew playing with the stuff would be a turn off for him. She wasn’t dumb. He wasn’t either. She liked him for that, which didn’t make the current state of things any easier to get over.

**

“That was sort of disappointing.” Corso nudged the body of Margok with his foot.

“You were really expecting _him_ to throw down an epic final stand?” Eva asked as she latched her omnitool onto the console the man had been defending.

Corso leaned on the console, a safe distance away from any vital buttons. “We got more resistance trying to take the cantina.”

“Cantina’s got some redeeming value – and I’d fight a duel for that chef.” Corso laughed and nodded – that was some divine food. “We also made a mess of their main slave trading depot. I wouldn’t be surprised if a bunch of the Nova Blades decided to hastily mend their ways.” Eva tipped her hat back to adjust her bandana and scratch her forehead.

Corso crossed his arms. “But not the ones Bowie is going to deal with tonight.”

Eva noncommittally raised and lowered her shoulders once. “Making an example of slavers on Rishi might go a ways in making sure this place doesn’t let it come back. I mean, we’re taking over but that’s not to say people aren’t going to try to keep that trade going.”

“So scare ‘em?”

“Promise them.” Eva stifled a yawn, hand going to cover her mouth. 

Corso leaned a little forward to get a look at her, even as she ducked her head to avoid being rude. “Pretty sure those circles under your eyes aren’t makeup now.”

Eva froze for a moment, then eyed him warily. “Nope. Didn’t want you to worry.” 

“Been wondering why you kept me managing Red Hull business out at the warehouse. Yeah, so I’m your ‘official’ First Mate – Risha got the business brain though. And she probably knew what was up weeks ago.” Corso’s good humor evaporated as he spoke. 

“Akaavi didn’t know. Bowie didn’t know.” She made the feeble offering.

Corso pushed his hair off his neck and adjusted his collar. “Akaavi’s been distracted the entire time we been on planet – ain’t none of my business. Bowdaar’s got himself in a tizzy over the slavery –which I understand—and that Sith lady – which I just don’t. But they knew something was up with you, probably. You went through a lot of effort to ensure I wasn’t even at the ship half the time you were.”

Eva directed her gaze back to her omnitool.

“And you called in the spy to rescue you – hell, I could have picked you up and got you outta danger and no one would have batted an eye in there.”

“This better not –”

Now Corso grabbed her arm. “Don’t throw the jealousy card at me. You’re not gonna fly away with me to Dantooine – I know that, you know that. You called him in because you _knew_ I wasn’t going to be happy about you dipping into spice again. With him, you could just front it as a business necessity – I know how it _actually_ works with you, normally. When you’re trying to stay clean. And then I’d figure something else was going on with this whole Red Hulls front that you weren’t honest about.” 

Corso let her go, and although she still felt his hand on her arm, she knew he’d only pressed the thick fabric of her coat into her skin – nothing more. “You said you were gonna make Rishi better. But it’s like Akaavi said – you didn’t tell us how risky this was, how just plain unsafe it is for _you_ to be doing this.” 

Eva ran a tired hand down her face. “Are you all going to take turns and lecture me?”

Corso pinched the bridge of his nose. “Until someone gets it through your thick skull that you don’t _have_ to be the one taking the risks all the time, Cap. You do this cuz you feel guilty over what happened –”

“And I only got the present to fix it in,” Eva cut him off. “I’m not going to wait years for some sort of redemption to come through – I fix what I screwed up.”

“But not everything is your screw-up, woman. This entire damn planet was the way it was before you entered the holo. It ain’t your fault just by association with him.” Corso wave his hand out toward the rest of Rishi. 

“But I can fix it. I got the power,” she retorted.

“And I don’t have objection to that – but you’re doing this for reasons that nobody other than you blames you for.” Corso made a fist and gently pushed down on the console with it.

“And you know that’s not true,” Eva reminded him. 

Corso looked down at his fist for a moment before looking back up at her. “That … still bugs you?”

“Always will. Always have the doubts.”

Before Corso could say anything else, the omnitool clicked, and Theron and Lana’s image appeared before them. The First Mate of _Virtue’s Thief_ made a face – she had been saved by the spies from any further lecture.

Good, in her mind. 

Theron’s hands were flying across his keyboard before he reached a hand up to his implants. “I’m in. This should give me a quicker view, a better assessment.” 

As Theron’s eyes went out of focus, Corso elbowed her. “I never want something in my head that sends me through the Holonet like I’m there in person.”

“Not on our ship – we’d have to wade through Guss’ browsing history to get out the door. Who wants that?” The two snickered as Theron paid them no attention at all and Lana waited for the Republic spy to offer some indication of his findings.

Despite whatever his eyes saw, Theron was still able to let out a low whistle. “There are dozens of comm logs in here. Hundreds. Sent to people all over the galaxy. Coruscant, Dromund Kaas, Corellia…” Theron slowly shook his head, as if using it as a touch gesture – or perhaps an indication of his disbelief at the volume of data they had found. “The names are all encoded, but breaking through that is only a matter of time.” He closed his eyes tightly for a moment and brought himself out of the data dive. “I’m going to get started right away. Great work.” With a few strikes of his comm board, Eva could see Theron port the data over to his workstation at the mainframe and turn away from the comm. He was already obsessed with the new information. 

Eva thought the ever-curious mind was cute. Too bad she’d ruined it.

Lana turned to watch him walk away without another word, then turned to address Corso and Eva. “You should hurry back. Despite what we overheard earlier, the Revanites could show up at any moment to try and help their allies – we’ll deal with them another time. Besides, I think we’ve earned a bit of a celebration – I think it’s a little late to arrange something for tonight, but tomorrow would suit better.” 

Eva smirked up at Lana’s image. “And you said planning a party would be getting ahead of ourselves.”

Lana bowed her head in good humor. “Do forgive my basic sense of caution. Well done, you two. Enjoy the night off. We’ll be in touch.”

As the transmission cut out, Corso turned to her. “I don’t suppose I can talk you into pushing back Bowie’s festivities tonight… or at least you talking a night off from being down there.”

Eva sighed at him. “I’m there to see and to be seen.”

Corso looked over her for a few moments longer than necessary. “You’re getting stuck in the illusion, Cap. You aren’t that pirate person, the one that doesn’t have the sense to know her own limits.”

“For now, I am.”

“You didn’t have to be on your day off yesterday.” Corso spun himself around, tiredly, and started to head back toward the speeders they’d arrived on earlier that day.

Eva had kept it all to herself, but Theron had been correct. The crew didn’t need to know explicitly what was going on behind closed doors to figure out ----

Things were falling apart. Would she even have a crew after this op?

No confidence. Increasingly unfit for duty. 

Eva never felt heavier as she followed Corso back to their transportation. 

She didn’t want to feel anymore.

**

Theron caught himself humming twice as he plowed through the data Eva and Corso had retrieved. This – this was the motherlode. This was the break. This was _everything_ he’d been searching for over the last few months. Now they would have names and faces and ---

They could save the galaxy. This was a good day.

Then T3 chirped at him. “T3 = done. Document = decrypted and unredacted.”

“I’m busy T3 – this is important.” Theron didn’t tear his eyes away from his screen for a second.

“You = promised.” T3 then bumped into his leg twice, as if trying to push him away from his work.

Theron looked to the chrono. “It’s hours before I need to go. And she might be wrong – I might not be needed tonight.” Maybe Eva would be too tired to attend tonight. She might stay in and do – whatever.

“Court data = long. You = read. Now.” T3 rolled around Theron to harass him from the other side. “New data = can wait = longer than court data.”

Droid had a point: Theron couldn’t really transmit anything until all elements of the names were properly decrypted and organized – that could take days. But starting now could speed it up – and there were only so many hours, so many operations the computer could –

Theron growled as he lost the internal argument. “Send it over, T3.” 

“Read = in private.”

Theron had a sudden urge to give T3 a sharp kick in the axle, but he didn’t do it. He wasn’t that type of a droid owner. Instead, he simply grabbed his datapad and went upstairs to his room.

Theron had barely sat down on his narrow bed when T3 sent up the file as promised.

As his implants rendered the documents for his viewing, Theron realized it was a good thing he was sitting down for this one.

**UNFILED**

**CASE REDACTED BY S. KARTUR**

**Galactic Courts of Justice, Coruscant**

**Supreme Court Division**

**Galactic Republic**

**Plaintiff,**

**v.**

**Eva Corolastor**

**Defendant,**

**Cause:**

**12 planetary members of the Republic file the following charges against the plaintiff in connection with Case GCJ-356021—9853 (Galactic Republic v. Darmas Pollaran).**

  1. **Sentient trafficking**
  2. **Sex trafficking**
  3. **Procurement**
  4. **Piracy**



…

…

…

The charges ran over multiple pages. 

Slightly numb, he scanned through the initial legal arguments that the prosecution had planned to use against her. She was too close, too clever, and too good at her job _not_ to know. 

Eva was Darmas’ fully acknowledging and consenting partner in everything.

 _Everything_.

That was the prosecutor’s argument.

About halfway through the massive document, Theron noticed a change in format – the case brief wasn’t properly completed.

Anonymous sources, legal opinions, and government officials – they had issue with the prosecution’s case. There were even filings from _Pollaran’s_ lawyers stating he had no such accomplice. Then there was a fleet of memos from the Courts of Justice to refute – then back and forth again. 

Theron stared down at some of the sources they’d taken on. Victim statements – why the hell wasn’t he on this? 

When he wasn’t breaking bones or wedged somewhere in Imperial space he shouldn’t be, Theron had made it a point to see his trafficking cases to the end – the very end. He wanted convictions. That wasn’t achieved without victim testimony. Victims didn’t testify if they didn’t feel safe and heard.

Despite Theron’s incompetence in his personal life, somehow…. Somehow, when it came to the wronged and injured, he had the gift of compassion without being some overzealous, self-righteous law officer. He had the ability to help others pick up the pieces without judging their failings. He had similar remarks during his field medic training with SIS, no matter how bizarre the injury presented to him was. The nurses complimented his beside manner. 

Master Zho would be proud.

This was exactly the sort of case he would have been called in on if they really wanted to nail Corolastor to a wall. He could have -- Theron checked the date on the initial drafts and when the victim testimonies were collected.

Oh. _Ascendant Spear_. He probably was getting punched somewhere or stuck in the bowels of an Imp destroyer, getting cramps from dehydration.

Theron should have found this months ago, when he was trying to determine her character and her suitability for recruitment. He went back to the top of the first page again. “Unfiled. Why?” he heard himself aloud.

T3 was apparently listening in from downstairs. “Government = insufficient evidence.”

Theron checked the page count of the court case. “Not for lack of trying.”

“Smuggler = innocent = T3 assessment.”

Theron felt that terrible feeling in his stomach again. “…I need to see for myself.”

Truth was the liberator. Either it would make it easy for him to remain detached… or he’d have a card game to attend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The long-advertised "Dead Dove, Do Not Eat" chapter is the next one. In the words of my partner, "it's really good, but it's really, really dark. I need a hug."


	14. Dead Dove, Do Not Eat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Darmas Pollaran really did. See notes for warnings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (points at chapter title) 
> 
> Warnings for: extrajudicial executions, character injury, excessive drug and alcohol abuse, flashbacks to betrayal and and mortal peril, description of a serial rapist, implied unprotected sex, medical trauma, gaslighting, (false?) accusations, unreliable (or at least questionable) narrator, and basically, broken adults being broken. 
> 
> If you want to skip this chapter, I've got a summary in the end notes.

Theron finished reading the document after sundown. 

He wasn’t going to be able to go to sleep after reading that.

He went out in disguise, as promised to Risha. 

That happened on Coruscant a lot too -- the going out to get a little lost in the night. Theron dodged his way into a small door way not far from the warehouse’s entrance to observe the people going in and going out… to think. 

What he’d read in that report wasn’t particularly better or worse than what he read on his usual beat. It went a long way to explain his caf consumption during the day and whiskey consumption at night. 

The problem was that the accused was a person he had let slip past his defenses, something that he should have picked up on. Theron didn’t mix his professional life with his personal life. When he dated SIS personnel, they were never field agents – no distraction on the job itself. Hell, his best relationship to this point had been someone who worked in a completely different building, completely different part of the Republic government sphere, who had the same loyalties he did.

Eva wasn’t even on the same side, politically. Philosophically – somewhat. He knew that before he found that Imperial antique in her possession; that certainly didn’t make him feel any better about it. Even if he did find something redeemable tonight, it wasn’t going to erase those questions. But…

She made him feel, intensely, to his discomfort. 

But he liked that challenge, that battle – he wasn’t dead inside yet. He wasn’t complacent. 

He was terrified, yet wanted to draw ever closer to her.

Theron definitely liked risk far too much to be a Jedi. That much was clear, as he slid from his hiding spot and made his way into the warehouse. Theron merged quietly into the crowd at the Red Hulls’ den. He would only show himself if necessary; he felt as if he was intruding upon Eva’s end of the operation, even with all of Risha’s assurances that he was needed. Now where was she?

What he’d internally referred to as the queen’s table was empty. Many people milled about inside of the warehouse, and Theron was able to make brief eye contact with Guss at the bar. Theron moved toward the open docks, where there was another queen’s table set up – also empty. There was a smaller, rowdier crowd toward the edge of the water. 

He finally caught sight of both Eva and Bowdaar there, at the far end of the docks. True to Risha’s word, Bowdaar was heaving the ringleaders of the Nova Blades’ trafficking arm into the air over open water and shooting at them like clay pigeons. 

He was actually getting some pretty good height on them. 

Theron’s footsteps slowed as he tried to place the other members of the crew. Akaavi was not here. Corso had been with Eva today; he wasn’t likely to be out. Risha –

Risha sat at a table further down the side of the warehouse, glaring at the festivities from a distance. Theron leaned against the wall, waiting for her to see him. 

She did.

The two watched.

Seated on the dock was Eva. The clothes of the Red Hulls’ captain were unchanged – skin at the shoulder and waist were bared, showing off old scars. Her hair was loose and voluminous, held back by a bandana. She laughed, loudly, cheering the Wookiee on. But despite every image of being the Pirate Queen, the eyes –

The eyes were those flat creations of the Voidhound. The perverse joy was an act. Something was passed to her on a tray by someone Theron didn’t recognize – it was a Red Hull recruit but that was all he could see – she consumed it with barely a look. She was indiscriminate. 

In that moment, another thought popped into Theron’s mind. Risha had been… benched, unofficially. He hadn’t seen her out in the field in a week, since she accompanied Eva to the initial briefings... before the trafficking issues came up. Akaavi, yes, prior to her poisoning. Guss, Corso, Bowdaar, yes. Even T3 had gone on walk-about once.

Something _else_ there, then. But that had to wait. 

Theron focused his attention on Eva and peripherally on Bowdaar. The Wookiee had worked half-way through his prisoners now. Eva had a new drink in her hand – not the regular gin and tonic, something he didn’t know at first glance. She’d consumed _a lot_ , if her rate had been consistent the entire night.

He knew she had a high capacity from years of doing this…but…

It happened so quickly nobody could have stopped it. 

Bowdaar had just thrown another slaver into the air.

Flash of light.

Theron’s implants registered an EC-17 blaster flash followed by a bolt --

The Wookiee _screamed._ The bowcaster clattered to the ground. Theron’s translators picked up the cry as “Little Girl” -- --

He’d screamed for Eva.

The crowd startled at the sight and the sound.

Theron saw Eva’s face go white as the glass in her hand fell away and shattered on the boards as she unsteadily rose and charged toward the edge of the dock, her main blaster drawn in a surprisingly smooth motion.

Theron instinctively went to draw his own concealed blaster, but checked the motion, instead pressing himself toward the wall to watch and wait.

A flurry of motion to his left, and Theron grabbed at Risha as she tried to run past him, pulling her to him – she only struggled for a moment before –

The witnesses began to panic as the captain of the Red Hulls intervened --

She killed the other slavers so quickly – shot one by one up the line Bowdaar had arranged them in. 

Risha’s breathing sped up, and she tried to break Theron’s grip – whether she was running to Bowdaar or Eva, he didn’t know, she couldn’t yet --

The mob stampeded down the docks to run back through the warehouse to escape –

Eva shot into the water, a scream indicating she had hit her mark --

Bowdaar made a noise and rolled to his knees --

Theron let Risha go as they went past.

Eva turned on unsteady heels, eyes wild, mind addled

Bowdaar open his hand, pulling it away from where it had been clutched against his chest ---

His hand, only his hand, had been hit. 

As Risha reached Bowdaar and began to shepherd him away, Eva said something – Theron couldn’t catch it. 

And then she was storming away, her off-hand blaster emerging from its holster. 

She was livid.

Theron only cast one more glance at Risha and Bowdaar. Bowdaar was cradling his hand.

Risha was staring at Theron, asking him.

He said he’d be there.

“Eva,” he called out to her. 

She didn’t heed him. 

Eva’s speed picked up as she moved down the docks and then abruptly turned left, out to the alleys of Rishi. 

Theron did not rush. He could still trail her without attracting attention to themselves.

He watched to see where she would go.

The tortuous back alleys of Rishi were easy for Theron to navigate. He was already awake due to what he’d read, but the implants made him hypervigilant; he’d memorized the maps of Rishi as well. 

For Eva, it was a greater challenge, he could tell. What she had consumed, the late hour after a long day, her emotional state – she kept in motion through sheer anger, stumbling, reaching for walls as she passed, heading toward –

Rishi’s red light district. The path became clear. 

The night’s humidity only intensified the smell of rotting seafood and the waste thrown into the back alleys they traversed. Infrastructure here was poor – was there even garbage pick up anyway?

Theron had given some thought to becoming a vigilante some years ago. He had all the skills and toys to do it. However, vigilantism made the law look weak (something an SIS man did not want), and not everyone’s motivations or judgment would be as benevolent as his might be. He’d read too many comic holos, borrowed from his bunkmate, to know that. 

To have Eva go rogue on Rishi would have been fine in any other circumstance – there was no law to compromise here. They were trying to build a Nova Blade turf war – targeted, specific, with clear motivations. A reign of terror on sex traffickers and pimps would blow their cover, attract too much attention to them at precisely the wrong time. 

“Eva!” Theron finally yelled out sharply. 

This time, she turned to look at him. No, no Voidhound here. No Eva either. Her eyes were wild. She had not been right all evening, and now – now she was off her chain. Theron felt himself start to take longer steps to catch up to her as she looked away, as if his presence had not registered entirely.

He caught up to her as she strode down the alley, still blasters drawn and ready. “Go back to your safehouse,” was her cold greeting. They moved in matched strides, passing through the street lights of Rishi, alternating between light and darkness. 

“Only if you go with me. Or if you come back to the _Thief_.”

“Tonight’s not my night to be dealt in. I have other business tonight. Try again tomorrow.”

He knew all the techniques to push someone away. He’d used them. “This isn’t about that. This is keeping you from destroying the op.”

“I thought you were fine with some extracurriculars.” Her eyes were fixed ahead of her, on her goal. 

“This extracurricular will attract all the wrong attention. You sent your message to the Novas, loud and clear. Anyone else, the message is muddled. It gets too personal.”

“Then I’m out of the op. I’m doing my own thing. You find someone else to work with. This is mine.”

In her state, Eva could only focus on so many things at once. Moving forward and using her blasters was probably all she had. 

Theron abruptly slammed her with his left shoulder into the wall, knocking one blaster out of her hand. The weapon clattered for a moment before hitting something. That quicker left hand was already in motion, and he was able to meet it, grasp the wrist, pivot it.

If Eva was going to blow someone’s head off, hers would be first; he had her own hand pinned to the alley wall, the muzzle of the blaster pointing at herself, not him. Theron’s left hand held her right shoulder tight to the wall. 

That was too easy. 

“That’s not happening,” he stated, staring ahead at the dirty, drab walls of the building. He didn’t look at her. “You know the rules. This op must complete.”

Eva didn’t fight. She went still. 

Now he knew something was very, very wrong. 

“Is that the end, then?” The voice was lost.

“What?”

“I’m no longer of use to you – I’m more a liability than a tool. Isn’t the part where spies tie up loose ends?” 

Theron’s eyes snapped to focus on her face, and he stared at her. Her pupils were blown out, focused somewhere over his shoulder. Her pallor was off – that could be because of the drugs too. Or because -- Did she think --? What did she think he --? He choked down his indignance as he answered her, emotionlessly, “You aren’t seriously asking me that.”

“You told me – my life or your op…” She swayed even as he had her pinned to the wall, and he instinctively pressed the length of his torso into her to keep her upright. “I’ve seen it before.”

_Corellia._

From his now awkward angle, Theron tried to make eye contact and get her to look at _him,_ not whatever she saw over his shoulder. The eyes persisted in their listlessness, her expression blank. “You’ve had way, way too much to drink. And maybe you had something else?” he suggested. “I think we should go back to your place and let you sleep it off.”

“No. Nightmares.” 

“About…?”

No response.

“Eva.” Her name seemed to summon her back for a moment. “We need to get to somewhere safe then we can talk—”

“No talking.” Then her mouth was at his throat, as she was pinned too tightly to go for his face. 

Theron was thankfully in full agent mode. This wasn’t the first time a woman had pawed at him and tried to distract him from the actual matter. Theron’s jaw twitched slightly to activate the implant that released a small bit of analgesia – insurance against temptation once outside of agent mode. There would be no lingering physical memories on his part. 

He tightened his grip on her left wrist and finally, the blaster fell down harmlessly next to them. His hand now free, Theron grabbed her by the chin and detached her mouth from his neck, forcing her head back against the wall. Once he was successful in that venture, his grip loosened. He didn’t want to bruise her.

Theron tracked Eva’s free hand. It clamped down on his forearm, as if there had been a dull realization she was going to drown. He pressed whatever awareness she had. “Yes, talking. Sleeping would be good too. Not this.” Theron cast a look at the abandoned blasters in the alley. “Or that.” He kept his touch on her jaw soft, but strong enough so she wouldn’t try to lurch forward toward him again. “We can go back to your ship.”

Somewhere, in that skull, something broke open. “No, I can’t. I’m not fit.” Eva’s voice came out higher and more distressed than he ever heard it. “Not like this.” Then the russet eyes turned up toward him, abruptly lucid. “I missed it. I _missed_ the blaster. I checked – and –”

Theron kept his face neutral as she began to beg him – _she_ begged _._ She _begged_. “Don’t take me back. They can’t see me like this.” Her face crumbled down. “I promised – not again, not unfit.”

And then she was crying.

Theron retained his composure as an SIS agent, even though there was a part of him that was uncontrollably flailing in panic. Theron was getting whiplash from her moods. Most of this was likely due to the mind-altering substances. But those had been consumed as way of –

not thinking about things.

_The things Risha mentioned. The thought he’d had about Corellia._

Pieces of Eva’s life started to fly around his head. Something had been broken – always had been broken the entire time he knew her – he just hadn’t pieced it all together. Theron set that to the backburner of his mind.

He had to get them out of there. This area was not safe. Her ship was not an option. His hideout was not an option – too many eyes on the way, Lana, A7 being nosy, T3 proverbially wringing his hands and roaming around the safehouse… Theron narrowed the possibilities and chose one.

She was still crying. 

“I need to let you go so I can clean up and get you out of here. Don’t move.”

Theron made fast work of grabbing the loose blasters from the alley, not thinking about what they had landed in. When he looked back, she was where he had left her, crumbling inward upon herself, so unlike the woman he knew.

_What else did he do to you?_

He returned to her, murmuring, “Eva, it’s Theron.” There was some flicker in her eyes, a slight tick in her face, that told him she knew he was there. She knew he was who he was.

Theron took her hand in his.

He led her away. 

**

Theron’s ultimate destination was a warehouse rooftop near the opposite end of the docks from Eva’s warehouse. It was the quietest, prettiest piece of real estate he could find without going into the wilds. He used it to meditate. He could see the dawn clearly from there. Theron and Eva sat down with their backs to a shed, obscuring the view of anyone on the ground. Here, nobody could see them.

They sat in silence. Theron considered what the best course of action would be. Asset extracted and secured. This was just about where SIS training ended.

So he was going to wing it.

“Hey,” he said softly. Eva looked at him, tears still falling, but she had put on that pazaak face. That blank, polite one. The one he liked less and less each time he saw it, because it wasn’t _her._ “Let me see your face. The real one.”

She silently shook her head.

He nodded his head. “Please.” 

She stared straight ahead. 

“Please.” Theron opened his hand, as if to reach for her, but he didn’t touch her. He repeated himself. “Please.”

Eva’s eyes darted between his hand and his face. “It hurts.”

“Y-you can tell me.” Theron made a hasty decision. He was an idiot for that. If she could listen to him on Coruscant…he could take it here on Rishi. The full story. The one that he’d ducked away from on Katalla. “It’s just me.”

As Eva emerged from behind her mask, she reached for him. He let her. He let her crawl between his legs. He let her bow her head and press her face to his chest, so he wouldn’t see her. He let his own arms hold her close to him. He let her cry.

**

Eva hated crying. She did it rarely. In theory, it was enough to remind herself that if she could get over her promotion to captain, she could handle everything else. Just get on with it. 

Today was a complete and utter failure of that theory. 

Now she had bawled her eyes out in the arms of a Republic SIS agent who probably knew most of the story anyway, while she was still coming off of a significant amount of illicit substances and alcohol. He used to think she was his best asset, the one he needed for this all to work, the one he would have feelings for. 

She didn’t think he would have those thoughts anymore. Given his likely knowledge of her file, Eva might as well hang a sign on herself: Dead Dove – Do Not Eat. 

Eva exhausted herself before she felt like she was done with the crying. That was the problem. She never felt done, so it would never end unless she did something to smother the thoughts. 

Cue: a series of really bad decisions today. The last few weeks. 

It was awful that they were together on a rooftop looking out over some really pretty scenery, and she was so very miserable. She reclined on her side, head to Theron’s chest. She could feel his arms around her tightly, and his chin was propped atop her head in an almost protective gesture. Why did it have to be awful now?

Eva had little ability to censor herself at this point, so thoughts came tumbling right out. She sat up slowly, still more than a bit woozy from everything in her system. He released her with ease. “And here you thought I was the one with her act together.” She glanced behind her.

Theron sat, back to the wall, legs spread wide enough to accommodate her. One hand was planted on the ground, and the other rested atop a knee that had been drawn up, possibly to stretch. He shockingly didn’t seem angry or disappointed. “You run a good con, Captain. But most of us do for stuff like this.” Theron adjusted his position on the hard roof. “You just happened to catch me first.”

“You had a bad day, me coming in all shot up.”

“I thought you lost your arm. Then all of the trouble caused by that one very good bouncer,” Theron sighed and shook his head. “You’ve had a bad day too. Multiple, even.” He let the words hang in the air. 

Eva hugged herself around her middle, still speaking to him from behind a shoulder. “You know that Bowie and I both hate slavery and trafficking. We really got up close and personal with it. He couldn’t take it. I sucked it up and kept going anyway.”

Theron waved the hand propped up on his knee. “I was in on the call. And now we’re here.” His gaze was not piercing, but it certainly had force behind it. “You thought I was going to serve you a burn notice.”

“It’s the drugs.”

“If you thought I was a chartreuse pom-hopper, that would be banthazolate,” he fired back immediately. Somewhere inside her husk, Eva appreciated that he was not having any of her bullshit. “You accusing me of planning to kill you – that’s not the drugs.” 

Eva grimaced. Don’t cry. Don’t goddamn cry. “That’s not about you.”

“That’s….what we need to talk about. Because it’s about _you._ And as long as I am a spy with SIS – the rest of my career – it’s about a hypothetical ‘us’.” Theron’s tone softened. 

Eva drew in a breath and tried to sit up straight. “Akaavi did say my taste for spies wasn’t for the weak. So let’s talk about Darmas Pollaran.” 

Eva saw Theron swallow hard. Oh, he definitely didn’t want to bring up the ex. “You’re not weak. She’s right about that.”

“I feel weak. It makes me feel weak.”

Theron’s hand made a ‘come hither’ gesture. He waited.

Eva’s head and her heart went to war. Trust issues. But she was already here alone on a roof with him. He could kill her if he wanted to. Done it already; he’d held her, had her blasters on him, definitely carried a knife in his boots. This was a moment that more alcohol would have been a good idea to institute a cease fire. 

Guess she had to do without. 

Eva went to Theron. She let him arrange her in his arms. He was strong – her memory was correct from that speeder ride on Nar Shaddaa and that gaudy night on Katalla. Eva cooperated, now leaning her back against his chest, her head able to tilt back on his shoulder. His face was so close to hers but just far away enough to permit conversation. His hip and legs lay outside of hers, cradling them while still letting her remain seated on the roof. 

Now they were in the exact position she had dreamed about the night after they’d parted ways at Manaan. Now they were going to have an excruciating conversation instead of the pleasantries of lovers in a holo. 

Eva felt Theron’s arms wrap around her waist, and he spoke against her hair. “It’s just me,” he reminded her again. 

She began slowly. “Darmas was an Imperial spy. He used me to conquer the underworld, in the hope that the Voidwolf would align it all under the Empire. He covered as an information broker, Pub side. A semi-pro sabacc player. And unknown to me, a human trafficker.”

Eva stopped. She steadied herself. Theron’s hand moved against her – he was still there, still listening. 

“You probably know about the top two lines of the charges against him. Spy. Trafficking of no fewer than 15 women. Life plus 300 years. That’s what they got him on.” Eva ran her tongue over her teeth in her mouth, nervously. “He cooperated with the Republic prosecution to chuck Dodonna under the speeder. He pled out on other charges to expedite the trial and to keep the sentence to _just_ life plus 300 years. One of them was inciting a riot – the lynch mob on me when I had outlived my usefulness. When he could no longer control me.” 

Theron’s initial response was an attempt at playfulness. “I have no illusions about controlling you.”

“But my life or the Republic,” she reminded him. 

Eva could almost palpate his humor evaporating. There was a pause before he spoke. “I meant that in terms of sending you out on risky missions. I’ve kept assets in play in the past, and they were killed. That wasn’t a deliberate action on my part. It was a consequence of the mission. I also meant that if there was a choice between a relationship with you and service to the Republic – if those two things were mutually exclusive, there was no choice. As far as taking you out of play – ” Theron’s breath was warm against the shell of her ear, “I can do that without killing you. And if it did come down to a life or death decision – I’d exhaust a lot of other options first.”

Eva’s hands sought his, and he gave them to her to hold onto and then grip tightly. “But you would make the decision.”

“I’m not going to lie to you or fool myself.” And from the sound of his voice, he didn’t want that choice to be on the table. “I can’t let attachments make me choose one person over the good of the galaxy – what’s better for thousands, millions of people.’

Eva finally grasped everything he had been distressed about that night on Coruscant – his crisis about physical closeness, about desire, about being attached as a spy and as the kind of man he was. This was the gamble. This was the fall-out. “Deal me in” was a hell of a request, one that had far more weight that she had thought. Eva had been so bold, so cavalier – and now she was finally getting it like the goddamn adult she wasn’t yet, seemingly.

Theron had understood. Eva had pretended to. 

She began again. “The other charges Darmas pled out on were related to the women he trafficked. I went to every hearing. We were on Coruscant for weeks. At those hearings, I heard everything he had done to each of those women.” A breath. “Personally.” Another breath and a hard squeeze to Theron’s hands. “Whenever I wasn’t around Port Nowhere.” She held his grip. “Slaves can’t give consent. Women forced into prostitute can’t give consent. My boyfriend was a rapist. Prolific.” 

Theron’s breathing remained even. He remained calm.

Eva felt her control slip. “He was so bad that the Republic prosecution thought I must have known. That I was an enabling partner.” She felt that familiar shudder roll through her, and her hands withdrew as her arms crossed over themselves. Theron folded his arms over hers, securing her. “They thought I _helped_ him. _Sent them to him._ Or at least I knew what he was doing to them.” She felt her entire body jerk with a sob at the memory. “Those women suffered because I _should have_ known. I was so stupid. I was his idiot smuggler captain, and I hurt so many people. I destroyed their lives because I was blind--” 

She shattered into tears. As she pulled her legs in toward herself, she felt his warm, strong body curl around her. A strong sense of revulsion struggled up inside of her – not directed at him. “I don’t deserve to be comforted – I could have stopped–!”

“No.” Theron’s low voice rolled through her. Even as she was shaking her head, he hushed her, his unshaven cheek pressed against the side of her head. Eva felt so safe in his arms – she didn’t deserve that. She didn’t deserve a lot of things he had on offer. 

She had to take it all, before it slipped through her fingers. Her sense of time was warped. She found herself counting the beats of his heart behind her.

Sobs still escaped her. Theron murmured in her ear as his hand intertwined with one of hers. “Eva, he used you strategically to make sure you couldn’t see what he was doing. He endangered you in so many ways.”

Eventually, her voice cracked as she argued, “He did worse to so many--”

“No matter how good he was to you, no matter what he said --- he came home to you without telling you what he’d done, not even to let you protect yourself.” Theron’s anger cut through the night air. 

Eva remembered an agonized shriek that had echoed through the _Thief_ , years ago, as the list of names – all of the names – came through. 

Then, for an indeterminable amount of time, all Eva could see was the ceiling of a women’s clinic on Nar Shaddaa. All she could hear was a Nautolan nurse telling her there would be some pressure but it would be over quickly. All she could feel were hot tears coursing down her face, Akaavi letting her grip her hand so tightly the Zabrak’s fingers were purple by the end of the appointment. 

“I didn’t get pregnant. I didn’t contract a disease. I was fine in comparison.” The voice came out of her from some far away and distant place. 

Theron spat his words, “I know this is rich, coming from me, but you are not fine.”

Voices in a courtroom marched through her head. Eva had a vivid memory of Darmas, repeating over and over again on the rostrum how he had no accomplice in those dealings; the smuggler he’d employed was a dumb patsy. She was someone who would take the fall and be killed by Rogun or by the Voidwolf himself when the time was right. She was so dumb. She was an idiot – how could anything _think_ she was his partner, his equal in anything? How could they think she meant anything to him?

_“For once in your brilliant little life….”_

Eva trembled a little. “Risha had a friend. Couple of friends, you know.” Master Sumalee and Shariss Kartur. “They had to throw weight to make sure I didn’t end up on the docket either and then personally made sure any evidence gathered, any drafts of indictments, anything with my name on it was destroyed – internally and externally. That’s how keen the Pub was on me. _Risha_ called in her favors. For _me._ ” 

Theron made a noise, somewhere between a groan and a scoff. He bowed his head, resting his forehead on her shoulder. “I’m beginning to see why you don’t think the Republic is the good guy.” 

“I should have stopped him. If I wasn’t so stupid, so blind, I could have.” Another tremble rolled through her.

“And how would that have gone?” Theron lifted his head from her shoulder, keeping his hands on her but no longer speaking softly in her ear. He leaned back, sitting up straight. “Confronting him in private at the Dealer’s Den, where he owned every worker there? Going to report Senate Dodonna, who had her own operatives poised to preserve her political career at any cost? Even in the prosecutor’s office?”

Eva sat up slightly. She’d never considered it. “But if I said –”

“Said what? Before he tried to burn you, did you know anything at all?” Theron asked her, point blank.

Eva felt everything hurt. “I didn’t know anything that would stand up in court – but my gut...” Eva felt the heat rush over her face again as she raised a hand to the piercing feeling in her chest. “My heart… I knew the illusion was breaking, but I didn’t know what was beyond it.” She had to take a series of deep breaths or else she would just -- “It was real to me. I thought he – we were real.” She tried to get more air into her lungs, which already ached. “And I wonder if he said all that he did on the stand about his ‘idiot smuggler’ to keep me safe. Not just because it was the truth, but … because…?”

She didn’t want to be one of those molls, one of those sidepieces who had some lingering form of a mad love that kept them awake at night. 

She didn’t. She didn’t.

Theron’s breath caught behind her, and he seemed to struggle for words before trying to deflect. “You know I don’t do those types of ops – I can’t. I know I can’t, as I am.” She felt his flingers adjust his grip on her, not too hard. “What a spy does to keep cover – it’s never going to be clear. Y-you’re never going to be secure in any explanation they give you, he gives you, I give you….it’s unanswerable, your question.” She’d detected the slight stutter – not a habit for Theron. A signal of his own – discomfort? Pity? Some other feeling he kept on a short chain?

 _Your taste for spies is not for the weak_.

Akaavi was obnoxiously right. 

There was a lull in the conversation. Eva felt herself coming down off of her emotions, as well as the drugs and alcohol. As she started to approach semi-solid ground again, Eva extracted herself from his arms to face him, sitting with her legs crossed. She saw him press his lips together as he saw her face after all that crying. He looked downright sad for her. 

Theron chose his next words carefully. “You are …. younger, aren’t you?”

Eva closed her eyes, and a pale smile appeared. He had it. He had the second biggest secret by its throat. “What makes you think I wasn’t just in love when all that happened? It’s a powerful thing, you know.” She opened her eyes again.

Theron crept along the conversation with a light touch. “In witness interviewing tactics, we’re reminded that when discussing trauma with a victim, they tend to revert to the age the trauma occurred. Someone who saw a murder at five years old will describe it as a five-year-old child, even if they’re some eloquent university professor in their fifties. You… aren’t acting like someone in their mid-to-late twenties. And ….” Theron’s voice dropped slightly. “You don’t look your documented age once you take off your armor and your Dermaplast.”

Deflect. “You like them young, Agent Shan?” Flirting.

She saw those lips curl back in a slightly impish smile. “No, but I do like you, as you are. And I don’t think you’re older than me.”

Eva took a good hard look at him. It was just Theron. No SIS. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, one side of his mouth hitching up as he saw the innate humor in someone asking a spy to keep a secret. His eyes were gentle, tired (she’d exhausted him), and – something else. Not sure what. 

“I think my official record says I was 26 when it started, 29 when I became Voidhound. 31 or 32 now.” She shook her head. “I wasn’t. I’m not. Chain code is off by 6 years. I was 19 when it all started. A few months after my 20th birthday, I burned my bed and bought a new one because some asshole named Skavak stole my ship. I’m going to be 25 soon.” Eva watched his face for the response. 

“It came tumbling down when you were…. 22? Almost 23?” She nodded. A cautious hand reached out to her, and she gave a small nod before it ran a thumb over her cheekbone.

Theron’s hand suddenly jumped against her skin. The expression on his face finally registered the new information. His eyes met hers, more than a little awe in them. “You were just 16 when you became captain.”

“Yeah. It’s sort of the benchmark for me. If I could get through that, then everything else should be easy.” She gave a half shrug. “I shouldn’t be up here with you like this. I should be-- ”

Theron’s expressed shifted to something – maybe it was sadder. Maybe it was self-reflective – or both. “Unfortunately for us, we are allowed to have more than one set of issues,” Theron said softly. “Sometimes, _a lot more_ than one set of issues.”

“And somehow we’re supposed to stagger through. Who made that crummy rule?” Eva leaned into his palm. 

“Someone or something way above my paygrade.” Theron’s voice was low, his thumb tracing her cheek again. 

The breeze blew up from the waters on Rishi, a fresh scent of salt and the black sands. The light wind ran through Eva’s loose hair, wrapping it across Theron’s hand. His own hair, the pomade now long gone from the hot night, was ruffled. The moon was still high, and stars shone down on their quiet corner of the docks. The roof was quiet.

If the two of them weren’t such damaged adults, one of whom was of questionable mental capacity due to being under the influence, talking about their issues which were extensive and manifold, running an expose of a mad cult that threatened the galaxy, -- yes, if none of that was in play, they’d kiss.

But it all was in play.

Theron’s hand eventually trailed off her face as they both looked out at the ocean. They soon both sat facing it, backs against the shed, as when they started the night here. The sound of the waves lapping at the shore filled the silence. 

Eva frowned at a thought that skittered across her mind. Her filter was still broken, so it came out, destroying that fragile peace. “What do you think of him? Spy to spy.”

The silence was thick for several moments that stretched into the territory of over a minute. Eva was willing to let him not answer, when he finally did. “Pollaran was an effective spy, which is why he was able to operate freely for many years.” Theron paused. “He did monstrous things to keep his cover. He’s what I would consider a bad man in an alley. Possibly one of the worst men.”

He took a breath and moved to sit next to her, hip to hip. Then he put his mouth to her ear. “One more reason why I need to complete this op. I don’t want there to be any doubts or questions about motivation.” 

For the first time in this entire encounter, Eva felt some hope. “Even though I --?”

“Certain things need to stop. I won’t –I won’t tolerate them, personally or professionally.” She heard him take a short breath. “There’s more to you than those things. But if you let them rule you – no. I can’t.”

They weren’t in complete shambles, then. Eva made a small offering in return for his response. “I have a thin little dossier on you from my sources. What was it you once said to me? You’re not easy to find, but that’s a good thing in your line of work.”

Theron used his hip to nudge her. “And what did you find?”

“The uniforms and haircuts are as bad as you said.”

He laughed at that, but he kept an eye on her as he asked, “And you saw before?”

“Only a little.” That was the truth. His life before was only a single line: “failed Jedi youngling.” Eva’s heart still hurt a little for him whenever she read that. She could only imagine how he felt about it. “And when you grew up, you busted slave trade rings. A lot. It was a relief.”

She saw him nod from her peripheral vision. “Finding out you forged slave chain codes and then blew out the slave market – major points in my book, too.”

They listened to the ocean for a few minutes. Then Theron cut into the silence. “Just to tie up loose ends -- tonight? This morning? Yesterday?”

Eva inhaled and then exhaled. “That’s a simple matter after everything else, really. After the job was done, I couldn’t get things out of my head, so I drank and did excessive amounts of drugs. Bowie got shot because my fucking scrambled brain missed the EC-17. I had not screwed up that bad since Darmas. I really did almost get him killed.” She opened her hand and held it out to him. “You want to guess who took my stupid self to Ilum to sober up before Corellia?”

Theron considered for a moment. “Bowdaar.”

“He told me I was unfit. To my face. And so I was tonight, but without him to tell me off…. I break my own rules.”

“You only drink when you’re happy. Not when flying. Not to excess when on duty.”

Eva balanced her wrists on her knees. “But I am an alcoholic. That label doesn’t fall away, no matter how long you’re dry.” Eva deliberately turned her head to face him, and he held her gaze. She wasn’t hiding this. The olive-gold eyes didn’t waver. He got it. “I admit, the early morning meetings make the spice easy to excuse. Special occasions, normally. But this op. It’s all of _his_ unfinished business. And I dream. I remember. I don’t want to. So, oblivion. Then, when oblivion failed, the impulsive anger. Then the attempt at scoring mindless sex.” She had the grace to lower her eyes slightly. “Sorry about that.”

Theron’s teeth hooked onto his lower lip for a second. “Coping. Failing to cope. I get it.” He worried his lip further. “You talk with someone about this before?”

“No. I figured it’s the sort of thing that would kill any interest. Damaged goods and all.”

Theron frowned, deeply, at that. “Don’t – if you are then…. So am I. I don’t always cope well either.” Then he shrugged. “I’m boring compared to you, though.” 

“Oh, don’t insult yourself or my curiosity, now that you’ve teased it.”

“Now I know you’re feeling better, being merciless as usual,” Theron grumbled, semi-theatrically.

“Thanks to you.” She nudged him with her hip. 

They exchanged a look. They understood each other perfectly.

Theron cleared his throat. “I’ve done that – the mindless sex. Just to turn off my brain. It was a phase, though – I did it for about 3 months, once, when I was younger. I caught feelings and made everything worse. Not that my usual dating life is more successful, even when I’m supposed to have feelings.” Theron shifted his weight. “No drugs. I drink a little more than I should.” He blinked. “No, a lot more, on random nights. Not often, but enough that I flinch at my surprise empties at the end of a month. You know?” Yeah, she did. “I am a workaholic. You’ve noticed that. I take it home with me. Sleep is optional.” 

Eva absorbed this. “You’re right. You’re very boring compared to me.” 

Theron’s mouth worked for a few seconds and then he spluttered, indignant, then began to laugh as he saw her grin. 

They eventually watched the sun come up before he walked her home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for anyone who follows me on Tumblr (sullustangin), this is why I've been jonesing for fluff prompts lately. 
> 
> I made Eva as young as she is because she is intelligent...but people in the 17-23 age bracket tend to think they're fully grown long before they actually are. Even someone like Risha, who is as street-wise as it gets, had a certain amount of excessive confidence that was shattered. You can be smart but still be a dumbass. When people are in their mid-20s , there's a certain brand of horror in looking back to see how child-like they still were only a couple of years ago, how trusting, how unprepared they were for certain aspects of life. Should she have known better? Some of us ask ourselves that repeatedly when we screw up at that age -- and it doesn't go away, pending the severity of the long-term impact. 
> 
> For those who skipped: 
> 
> Theron read the whole report. It fits in with the rest of the work he's done in human trafficking. He goes to the warehouse as asked by Risha and watches as Bowie executes slavers for giggles and Eva consumes any substance that comes within three feet of her.
> 
> It comes out later that Eva was responsible for searching the prisoners for any holdout weapons, but apparently she was already imbiding and missed an EC-17 holdout blaster. The slaver shoots Bowie in the hand, then Eva shoots him and all the rest of the captives. Bowie is fine, but Eva heads off toward the red light district of Rishi, probably to go on a hunt for pimps and those who would force girls against their will. 
> 
> Theron catches up to her, all too easily given how addled she is. He tells her they're not done with the op; she can't screw it up now, so he's going to stop her from doing this. Eva bursts into tears, convinced he's going to give her a burn notice -- essentially, clean up a loose end like Darmas tried to do when he set her up at Tatooine and later again at Corellia. That's absolutely NOT Theron's intention, so he manages to take her to his meditation spot on Rishi to try to talk her down or something less dangerous than having a breakdown in a red light district alley. 
> 
> Theron, who is equal parts worried about her and nervous for how he handles personal feelings, lets her cry before she tells her side of the story -- what happened 3 years ago. Throughout this section, there are memory fragments that Eva recalls, which can upset readers. 
> 
> Darmas was charged for his work as a spy and for the human trafficking of at least 15 women. There were other charges he pled out on, including trying to kill Eva and offenses against other women that would not/could not testify in court. Darmas personally enjoyed the sex slaves he trafficked -- as Eva says, a prolific rapist. Eva didn't know about it until all the names came through from Shariss, Risha's friend in SIS (Theron missed all this due to the Ascendant Spear mission he was on). 
> 
> Because of how massive Darmas' slavery network was, how numerous his crimes were, the Republic prosecution was convinced that Eva had to be involved. The man had to have an accomplice that was as clever and resourceful -- Eva was as guilty as he was, in their eyes, and it's really only through Master Sumalee and Shariss Kartur (Risha's old friends) that Eva's case never goes beyond paper work intended to be filed. The fact that the Republic pursued her so aggressively and the fact that so many favors and so much effort had to be spent to exonerate her...and the fact that she knows she isn't stupid, that maybe she should have seen the signs, that if she had been more clear-eyed, a little older, a little wiser --- the doubt always remains in Eva's mind as to whether she is culpable and whether she really does deserve to be in jail with Darmas. 
> 
> She was blind, but criminally so? Eva has to live with that lingering unease. Could she have done anything before she knew she was being burned? Theron points out that both Dodonna and Pollaran had contingencies in place to eliminate her if she figured out the game any earlier than she did. She also doesn't know how real the relationship between her and Darmas was -- and Theron tells her she might never know for sure. 
> 
> Theron figures out how young Eva actually is; her chaincode is a forgery, made for her to be older than she is, meaning she is far younger than he thought when it comes to losing her parents and going through the Darmas situation. He tells her that the drugs need to stop; he still wants to try something with her post-op, but the substance abuse is a dealbreaker for him, personally and professionally. They discuss how they both cope with their issues -- not very well, honestly. They're both damaged goods, in their own ways. 
> 
> And strangely, that doesn't seem to push them apart.
> 
> Eva and Theron sit together on the roof until sunrise, and then he walks her home.


	15. Rishi Op, Day 8 and 9: Too Close and Too Far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron and Eva deal with the emotional fall-out of the previous few chapters in their own ways, none which is particularly healthy. Akaavi gets to work on figuring out what sort of Mandos are on Rishi...only to there is an extra one on planet that nobody expected.

# Day 8

Theron woke midday. It had been a long night. Not only had he sat up til dawn with Eva, he’d dreamed. He’d dreamed about spring grass on Alderaan. About a girl who was the same color. 

He hadn’t thought of Karrie in nearly a year.

Karrie was content with everything. She was a self-admitted underachiever; her job at the embassy was the greatest thing she’d done yet, and as a Miralan, that’s what she got her tattoo for. She was sweet in everything in she did, and she was beautiful. 

Theron had walked into a door the first time he saw her. Karrie crossed the embassy courtyard to see if he was ok. 

Theron was beyond ok.

Karrie wouldn’t have caused him any trouble, long term, as long as he came home. She didn’t pry, didn’t argue – just made a soft space for him to land without a fuss. She didn’t demand a lot from him.

But… he’d always been drawn to people who reached for something more. Someone always in motion, like he was. He knew he’d screw it up and break her heart if that person came along. 

He ended it with Karrie. She had to tell her parents that he wasn’t going to meet them. He found the design for the tattoo she planned to get for their “serious” “grown-up” relationship in his kitchen wastebin a few weeks later, when he finally came back from a mission. 

Eva came along less than a year later. Theron hadn’t thought of Karrie since. Until now.

She wouldn’t have put him through this. She wouldn’t have had this sort of thing happen to her. 

And yet, despite the ease of that relationship, Theron didn’t miss it – or her – as much as he should have, if he was at all smart or knew what was good for him. Karrie wasn’t as dragged around by the universe as he had been…

Or she had been.

Theron’s eyes opened fully. Theron had comforted someone personally, beyond just reassuring Karrie that inexperience wasn’t a turn-off and she did look good in that dress.

It was easier to do it with victims, strangers, people he didn’t have to get attached to, people he just had to shepherd to the next safe harbor. 

He’d jumped into the deep end with Eva, with far less hesitation than he expected of himself. He… wanted to help Eva to start picking up the pieces. It wasn’t a professional requirement.

Theron could argue it was selfish. Getting to hold her was selfish. Letting her divulge everything, getting more intel on her – could be selfish.

Yet, he felt himself tugged along, experiencing pieces of her shame, her horror, her living nightmare that Darmas Pollaran still worked in the galaxy. The man’s reach seemed to be neverending. Hell, Theron had thrown himself off the professional and emotional equivalent of a cliff….

Somehow, that fact was now both intensely gratifying and terrifying at the same time. He had done something on a personal level that –

that—

\-- that he hadn’t had for himself when he had his world taken out from under him. 

It was an old wound, he reminded himself. It was over. Done. Nothing to fix anymore – his life was what it was, and he was _happy_ in his service. 

But he’d done that kindness for Eva anyway. He…was capable. That…was surprising. 

And that gut of his told him she’d do it for him in a heartbeat.

Only if he let her. He wouldn’t – didn’t need to.

Theron most certainly didn’t like it when _that_ thought didn’t ring true to himself. He let out a low groan and rolled over, burying his head under his thin, cheap pillow. 

**

_The words came first._

_“Listen, it’s your ship, your choice as to what you have on it. I’m just saying that you’re running a riskier game now that you’re a privateer. You wouldn’t want anything to happen to him.”_

_“….you don’t like him.”_

_“That’s true, but I’m just asking you to think about it, sweetheart. He’s an old cat…. This isn’t a business for old men.”_

_“Then why are you in it?”_

_A laugh. It sounded darker in retrospect._

_Then came the vision._

_It was a semi-tropical planet. He’d never be cold. The natives worshipped the skeletons of large, ancient cats they dug up. These prehistoric animals were long gone, but the reverence remained. Eva was willing to gamble that they’d accept a smaller version as a god. She certainly dressed the role of some ethereal being from their past; she’d assiduously researched their history, their cave paintings, their religious systems. She had to fit._

_Hylo would fit._

_Bowdaar actually fit as well; their mother-goddess had a hirsute companion of great height. Father, lover, protector – the exact nature of their connection in the local religion was unclear. Eva didn’t care. They just had to carry it off for the few minutes it took to deliver the most precious cargo._

_“Little girl, you don’t have to do this.”_

_“I want him to be safe.”_

_Bowdaar crooned down at her. Her chest felt so tight as she carried Hylo. He had his paws on her shoulder, looking back at the ship he hadn’t been off of in the twelve years he’d lived with Eva. In short, almost his entire life since kittenhood. He headbutted the side of her face, purring loudly in her ear._

_“Why are you doing this for a man who doesn’t sleep on your ship anyway?” Bowdaar asked her._

_“He says…” Eva didn’t bother to finish. Bowie wouldn’t understand._

_The last, questioning meow in the arms of a grateful priestess nearly broke her and made her run back._

_But she didn’t._

_Hylo was deified, as Eva expected. He never wanted for anything._

_Eva missed him so much._

_She didn’t deserve him._

_**_

_“So good to catch you in, Captain. I trust you’re finished playing white knight to poor little smugglers?”_

_Eva stared up at his image on the holoscreen. He looked displeased. “Alilia is giving us a piece of the action.”_

_“The kid would have been worth a lot more to Dodonna,” Darmas answered coolly._

_“Yeah, the kid – Trick is a child. I don’t traffic in sentients, Darmas,” Eva retorted with far more heat._

_Darmas scoffed. “Could you really call it that? Sentient?”_

_Eva squared herself. “Is there a point to the call, other than to question my decisions? I still got skin in the game, plus I have a trustworthy contact that won’t burn us – compare that to the White Maw, who have a modest collection of brain cells they rent out by the hour. You going to narc on me to Dodonna?”_

_Darmas gave her a hard look. After a few tense moments, he spoke. “Let’s drop it. If you’re finding yourself at loose ends, a business opportunity has presented itself that I thought might interest you. If you aren’t thinking of a career change…”_

_“I’m a smuggler, sweetheart. I do business in non-sentient creatures and objects.” Eva glared at the man before her. She wasn’t going to back down._

_“You’ll love this, then. It might even play to your heroine complex …”_

_After the comm was switched off, Eva caught Risha snarling at where Darmas’ image once stood. Akaavi, leaning at the entryway to the lounge, noticed. “She didn’t fulfill the contract, you know.”_

_Risha swallowed hard. “Some contracts aren’t worth keeping.” She tore her eyes away and marched off._

_**_

_Darmas was just out of reach behind the transparisteel divider. He smiled at her, pleased she had come to see him, a year later. They’d exchanged pleasantries. He knew she remained the Voidhound, but her identity as Eva Corolastor was safe. He knew how to keep a secret._

_The former spy folded his hands in front of him. “Got the locket.”_

_“Hope you got it somewhere safe,” she said nonchalantly. He stifled a laugh as he got the unsaid dirty joke._

_The conversation trailed off into a silence. He darted a glance toward the guard before daring to slide his hand along the table through the small gap in the divider. Darmas had been exceedingly well-behaved the past year – model prisoner. They’d downgraded his security status. He could have received a small parcel – subject to search, of course – through the gap. Instead, he sought a touch of her hand._

_Eva didn’t give it to him._

_He cocked his head slightly to the side, as if getting a fix on prey. “I did mean what I said, sweetheart.”_

_“On the stand?”_

_Darmas’ smile disappeared. “You know why I said those things. They were coming after you. What was perjury, after life plus 300?”_

_Eva leaned back in her visitor’s chair and crossed her legs. “Am I supposed to thank you? After all that?”_

_Darmas remained close to the transparisteel. “No. I’m supposed to apologize for that. And Corellia. But I meant what I said there – I was a fool for not telling you who I was. Dealing you in as a real partner should have happened before.”_

_“Before” would have coincided with the locket. That had meant a lot of things, once. Now it was Eva’s turn to tilt her head and study Darmas as if he was some rodent. “You’re sorry for not making me an agent of the Empire too.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“You’re sorry for Corellia.”_

_She sat up and leaned in toward the divider again._

_“Yes.”_

_“You’re sorry for hurting me.”_

_Her hand began to slither toward the gap, toward his hand._

_“Yes.”_

_“But you’re not sorry for the trafficking cover.”_

_Darmas’ eyes hardened, and he made the mistake of looking away from her in some sense of shame, leaning back. “I did what I had to in order to continue my business for the Empire. If I had dealt you in, things wouldn’t have continued that way. That was my mistake.”_

_“But you’re not sorry for what you did to maintain cover.”_

_Eva’s hand stayed on her slide of the divider, flat to the table._

_“No.”_

_When Darmas looked at her again, he realized he had missed Eva’s transition from the girl he once knew to the Voidhound. He had no time to react; he’d been out of the field too long._

_Her right arm shot through the gap in the divider, and she sank her fingers into his prison-issued shirt collar_

_With everything she had in her arm, Eva wrenched Darmas face forward into the transparisteel once – his nose splattered blood. The guard startled._

_He tried to pull back and away, and she let him, for a second. Then she was on her feet, the visitor’s chair shoved aside, and she yanked him back into the divider again. This time, he managed to turn his face to the side, but Eva got the satisfaction of hearing Darmas’ cheekbone pop and snap._

_“For the women,” she hissed._

_Darmas’s eyes opened, the circles under his eyes already darkening. The guard was on his feet now, but he seemed uncertain as to whether to intervene._

_Everyone knew what Darmas Pollaran had done._

_The former spy was too dazed to really resist Eva. Eva stared at Darmas for a moment, then jerked him back one more time and his face met the transparisteel visitor divider one last time._

_“For Hylo.”_

_Then she released him and he slumped forward on the table. She shook the loose droplets of his blood off her hands, wiping the rest on her black trousers, where no one would see. The guard, stricken, stared at her. Wordlessly, she procured a small stack of credits and pushed them into his frozen hands._

_“What about you?”_

_Eva looked back at Darmas. She saw him run his teeth through his mouth, and somehow, he retained a sort of elegance, a sort of grace as he plucked a lost tooth from his mouth. He held her gaze, unyielding as ever._

_“Not worth it.”_

_**_

Eva woke with a start, and she was discombobulated. 

Strange place. 

No.

Wait.

She was in her bed for the first time in weeks. She hadn’t woken up in the middle of the night either. She’d gotten through all the dreams, all the memories without using anything to enter a dreamless sleep. 

Eva needed to shower. She’d gone to bed in her clothes from last night –

A fleeting memory of the final march up the gangplank, Theron holding her hand until a worried Risha opened the door. The pair exchanged words that Eva didn’t hear, and then he gently guided her inside, not going further than the door. 

Eva had been ushered by Risha to her quarters, given a glass of water, and told to go to bed. She did so, obediently. And she’d managed to sleep all the way through the night, despite the dreams.

One hand rose up to her face to rub at her eyes, which were scratchy. Hylo always made her cry, the only man ever worth her tears, honestly. 

Worth. Eva absent-mindedly let her hand rift from her eyes up to the rat’s nest that now was her hair. She never really had clarified what she meant by “not worth it,” to Darmas or to herself. 

_Didn’t matter_ , she told herself. Shower.

Eva took her time. Her hair needed it. She had aches and pains that that the spice had probably numbed or at least distracted from. She knew she was going to feel like she had the flu for the next day or so. Had she ---

No, she hadn’t promised Theron she would stop entirely. She had to do business on Rishi. But she had taken his point that what she had been doing was a no-go for him. 

Her own crew had made that point. Eva sighed under the spray of the shower. Captaincy and control of the purse – it complicated who could tell her what to do. The situation at hand did too. After it all happened, dealing with her was like handling a live grenade with the pin out. Then there was Bowie and what happened to him. Risha, too. 

She didn’t pay Theron. He wasn’t part of her crew. He was removed from the personal situation.

He could do what needed to be done, and he didn’t care.

No, he cared. But he was detached enough to cope with the consequences better than someone who had to live with her. 

Eva turned off the water. Theron was a good friend that way. Maybe another reason not to look deeper. She needed that type of friend.

Then again, she had actually felt _right_ being held by him. He said he didn’t want there to be any misunderstandings; they had to wait for the op to end. Then… who knew. And Eva had marked Theron as a runner; too much, and he’d be gone.

It didn’t have to last forever. But it didn’t have to be something fleeting either. Maybe something in the middle was what she needed, after all the others. 

Dry and dressed, Eva emerged from her quarters. The ship was quiet. Half the day was gone. 

She turned sharply into the galley. Bowie sat there at the counter, quietly, holding a cup of caf in one hand. His bandaged hand lay on the table, white and clean. The smuggler and the Wookiee regarded each other for a moment before Bowdaar used his free hand to snag another mug by the handle off a nearby shelf and gestured toward the caf pot. “Should be enough left for one.”

Eva grabbed the caf pot and sat down across from Bowie, pouring herself the last cup. 

They sat together for a while. They didn’t speak.

Then, eventually, as they both reached the dregs: “Aren’t we a pair.”

Bowdaar huffed in agreement. “Old wounds still are dangerous when they do not heal properly.” 

Eva couldn’t disagree with that, so she let her mug “clink” with Bowdaar’s as they finished the last of the caf. 

“You should send a message to Spike. He brought you home safe last night,” he suggested, finding the bottom of his empty mug absolutely _fascinating_ to examine.

Eva held back a laugh but grudgingly nodded. “Yeah, figure I should. We were supposed to have a party after breaking Margok’s face, but I think… I’ve done my share for a few weeks in advance.”

“Eh, a little celebration is good – we have achieved much and broken many chains.” Bowdaar pushed his mug off to the side.

Eva checked the bottom of her mug as well and set it down next to Bowie’s empty one. “Speaking of chains – what happened to your gal pals after the prison break? They go home?”

Bowdaar gestured with his hands as he spoke. “Some did. Others were from here originally. It is one thing to be a slave, another to be self-employed – you understand, Little Girl?”

Eva nodded carefully as a frown started to appear on her face, but stopped at the initial phases. “To be blunt, the Nova Blades picked people that wouldn’t be missed or those who were part of the underworld – single women of a certain age, the local prostitutes, people already on spice, people traveling alone….” Eva rapped her knuckles once on the table as an idea started to form. “Bowie, they give you an idea of how business runs here? The local sex trade, not what the Novas do.”

Bowdaar looked at her as if she was crazy. “No. I heard mention of boyfriends and husbands for some, but I did not ask for the business model.”

Eva nodded. “Right. I’ll message Theron, let him know I’m still alive. Then I need to go out. Risha around?”

Bowdaar stared at her for a moment. “She’s managing the books at the warehouse. You have an idea.” 

“Always.” 

“Can I go with you to see your idea?”

“Yup. You might even like it.”

**

_Secure Connection: Virtue’s Thief to Safehouse_

_To: TS_

_From: EC_

_Subject: Still alive_

_Thanks for last night. :) No party today. Lana say anything?”_

_To: EC_

_From: TS_

_Subject: Re: Still Alive_

_Good to hear. :) She looked at me like a tomcat slinking in after a late night. I told her no one mission-critical died, so everything is ok._

_To: TS_

_From: EC_

_Subject: Re:Re: Still alive_

_Wish I saw her face. Back to business tomorrow?_

_To: EC_

_From: TS_

_Subject: Re:Re:Re: Still alive_

_As far as I know. Late start for me today, but I might have more from the files you gave me by tomorrow. Stay safe._

Eva had to force herself to not respond. She had to get started on the day, if she was going to have anything complete by business hours tonight.

But texting with him did make her feel good. And he always did tell her to stay safe – as if that was a reasonable option for either of them…

He was also probably hot to get back to that data that Risha had somehow forced him to abandon. Eva had already started to formulate a few guesses as to what Risha – undoubtedly -- had explained to him. 

The memory of his hand around hers told her whatever had been said, it hadn’t doomed anything. 

Eva noted that it was a few hours before sundown; people should be awake for the night. She called for Bowdaar as she stepped out of the _Thief_ in her Red Hull garb and headed toward the red light district.

**

# Day 9

0900 came early the next day. Eva was there to greet it. She felt like absolute bantha drekk with full body aches and a chill that she couldn’t shake, but she was at the safehouse as requested by Lana.

The Sith was undoubtedly a kriffing morning person.

“Welcome back!” Lana greeted her as she came into the main room of the safehouse. 

Theron distractedly grunted something along the lines of “hello.” He was fixated on the data flowing through his implants and on the screen before him. Eva had to check her smile. She did love seeing that curious mind at work. 

Lana primly put down her datapad and addressed Eva directly. “You have achieved more in your short time here than we ever thought possible. You should be proud. I may not have expressed adequate appreciation for your work to this point.” Lana seemed anxious to give this praise to Eva; the smuggler wondered what prompted this.

Eva shrugged once. “It’s a job. It’s done.”

The answer to Lana’s mood came rambling through the door at that moment. “Droid, they are all just standing talking. You said this would be a party!” Jakarro groused loudly at D4.

D4 snapped right back. “I also said we should stop for decorations on the way! Now the party’s terrible and it’s our fault as much as theirs!”

Lana grimaced slightly. “I realized I may have indicated –” 

Eva checked her chrono. “Little early for a party,” she said with a short laugh, as she privately considered that she’d been to more than a few parties that had breezed right through 9 am the morning after the night before. “You could always come out to the Red Hulls’ little home on the bay if you want a real party. I have some business tonight to transact, but you can rely on the crew to make a good time.”

Jakarro mulled this over momentarily. “Done. Just keep your Wookiee –”

Eva interrupted him smoothly. “Bowie is my heavy when I have to do business. He lurks in my corner while I deal with men that think they’re a better businessman than I am. He and I will be busy tonight, so feel free to hang out with the rest of the gang.” Eva paused for a second, considering the nature of her business that evening. “Risha might be with me too, so I hope you won’t mind the boys and Akaavi, if she’s up for it.” 

Jakarro nodded. “What about you, Beniko?” he asked the Sith Lord.

Lana thought it over and seemed indecisive. “Well, someone has to stay here to monitor things; we try not to leave the safehouse unattended….”

Theron interrupted her smoothly, as if he had been listening to the conversation the entire time (when he clearly had not). “Go. I have stuff tonight. The Nova Blades files… Give me one second, I think I have something.”

Lana only mulled it over for a moment more. “A night out in disguise would be fair and fitting, since Theron has disappeared a few times.”

Eva didn’t respond outwardly. She knew where he’d been on both occasions. 

“Then it’s decided. We make acquaintances with the Red Hulls officially while Agent Shan works. Which isn’t different from what he normally does,” D4 dryly observed. 

Theron was still thick into his data as he distantly replied, “Yeah. Slicing the Nova Blade files is slow going, but I’ve already found more references to this Torch person that Margok and Revan were talking about.”

Theron’s fingers went to his template and with a touch gesture, he was able to throw the data in his implants out toward the main strategy table. Some security holos of Mandos with helmets on appeared. A speculative map of where their home might be popped up as an inset to the larger holo display. “Torch definitely heads up a group of Mandalorians based here on Rishi. They were allied with the Nova Blades, then the Revanites but then broke ties within the last few months – and not on good terms. If we can find Torch and get her talking, she might give us some good intel. Maybe even help us take the Revanites on.”

Eva made a noise tight in her throat. “I wouldn’t count on that. It depends on the type of Mandos they are – motivations, their views on contracts and discretion, and whether they still have the spirit of battle. Mandos love a good fight, but if they’ve left the Novas and the Revanites alone… I’d guess there’s a reason for that.” 

“Think you can consult your resident Mando on the matter?” Eva turned to look at Theron, who had finally pulled himself out of the data. 

Eva shrugged. “She didn’t even know there was an entire covert on-planet. I’ll have to ask her what she needs to even start investigating Mando clans.” 

Theron nodded then closed his eyes. “Sending off some of the holo stills of the Mandalorians to the _Thief_. I know some have a particular sigil, helmet designs… I’ll leave it to her.” 

Eva watched and privately reaffirmed her decision never to have something installed in her brain like that. Too weird, too intrusive. “So intel analysis today, party tonight. You two need me for anything?” Eva asked both spies.

Lana looked down at her datapad and seemed to run through a checklist. “No, I don’t believe so. We need more intel to proceed, but I do believe the Nova Blades are nearly out of commission. I would advise some caution in mixing with the Rishi locals. Some may not be pleased about this development, though I’m confident many are.” 

Eva gave Lana a nod, then said to Jakarro and D4. “See you tonight. Come hungry. We got a new chef.” 

Eva turned to say goodbye to Theron, but he was already gone with his data. 

Well, she had distracted him from it for long enough. As Eva walked back out of the safehouse, she let herself grin slightly.

**

# Day 9, night

The pre-set alarm went off in his head. He took a deep breath and checked the chrono. Time to hit the head. Oh, and eat something, or else he’d miss today’s meals entirely. Theron knew himself well enough to remind himself to eat. 

After he finished his business in the washroom, Theron pulled out one of the nicer ration packs from _Virtue’s Thief_. The safehouse was silent except for the hum of the machines: the main computer, the strategy table, the consoles he and Lana had hastily improvised when the main wasn’t sufficient, and then their two droids, A7 and T3. T3 had been the last addition, thanks to Eva.

When he’d staggered in yesterday morning, T3 had asked if the Smuggler was ok. “As much as she can be.”

“You = friend = her?”

“Yes,” he had answered, with no hesitation. 

Theron looked at the rehydrated bread roll before he bit into it. He felt a slight pang when he thought about how effectively he’d ignored her for most of yesterday and today. She didn’t seem to mind it, but…

He’d consciously done it. Everything from night before last – it was a lot for him. It was intense. 

He couldn’t even get through “meet the parents” prep with Karrie, but hearing about the intergalactic sex offender Imperial spy ex-boyfriend? And then offering comfort and emotional support? Somehow, that wasn’t a challenge. 

He was _fine_ with bearing that emotional weight with Eva. 

And that wasn’t _fine_. 

The fact that that it immediately didn’t freak him out made him freak out later. 

So Theron had let work consume him. Admittedly, he would have been like a kid on Life Day morning with the new data anyway, but he really let it run his life the last day and a half. 

The safehouse door rattled, then swung open. Theron put the bread roll down long enough to pull his blaster and carefully train it toward the door. 

Lana walked into the room, then startled as she realized Theron was there and armed. She shot him a withering look. Theron hastily reholstered his blaster. “What happened?” he asked. 

Lana walked over to the medkit they kept in the room and popped it open. “Apparently, I’m allergic to the Rishi coconut, and the very lovely drink I had was made with coconut rum. I’m taking an anti-histamine and going to bed.” 

Upon closer observation, she did look a bit puffy. 

“What’s really rotten is that I already ordered my food – by the way, they did get that chef from the Wolf’s Den to come over to the warehouse tonight – and I absolutely couldn’t stay another moment. The Captain is covering it, but all the same, I rather it not go to waste.” Lana rooted through the medkit before finally pulling out a small blue pill bottle, consulting the label, and shaking out a pill before putting the medkit back to rights.

Theron crossed his arms and leaned back against one of the computer consoles. “That your round-about way of getting me out of the safehouse?” 

“You do need a break, Theron. You’ve been at it nearly constantly since you woke up yesterday afternoon,” Lana answered matter-of-factly. “You were drinking caf still when I left a few hours ago, so you’re clearly not going to bed yet.” She swallowed the pill in one smooth movement, dry. 

Theron dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “The faster I finish that, the sooner we get back into the good graces of our respective governments. This sooner this ends.”

Lana swallowed twice, and not just for the good of the pill. “Maybe I’m too new at this, and maybe the grand sense of adventure hasn’t worn off yet... but I have enjoyed the independence this has afforded me.”

“You thinking of running off with Jakarro when this is all over? Or Bowdaar?” Theron cracked.

Lana let out a short laugh. “I have no idea what it is that makes Wookiees like me so much. It defies explanation.” Then Lana seemed to contemplate the larger question. “I am keen to return to home – the Empire. To some shred of normalcy. But at the same time, seeing the galaxy through an entirely different viewpoint has been enlightening. If I had remained strictly in the Military Sphere, I wouldn’t have.” 

Lana crossed her arms and regarded Theron. He waited for whatever it was she was going to ask, from one spy to another. “Is it awful of me to say that I’ve enjoyed this? This dangerous, potentially life-altering conspiracy and its impact on trillions of sentients on all sides – my experience of living a life that is not my own – there’s a part of me that won’t regret having gone through it?”

Theron gave a half-roll of his shoulder. “Part of the thrill of it. New faces, new life every day. The chance to play the hero – for whatever side you’re on.” Theron paused and let the light of the console play across the room for a moment as it did its regularly scheduled security sweep. Lana was new at this, but she was smart enough to see her own shortcomings and the perverse joys one got to experience as a spy. 

“The thing is, you will tell yourself you’re doing the real good work. You’ll never get glory or credit for it like an Emperor’s Wrath or the Hero of Tython; the good things you do always remain in the dark, and so you let yourself get a bizarre sense of pride about it.” Theron looked over at Lana, pointedly. “For some agents, they think it gives them license to do things they shouldn’t, because just like the good, the bad never gets attention either. Sure, your superior might make a comment –”

“But if you’ve achieved the objective, there is little for them to critique. Results, not methods,” Lana filled in. “A cold pragmatism, which I can appreciate.” 

The fact that Lana was turning over the idea in her head with her lawful, Imperial-shaped world views –

The same systems that created her created ---

“I think I’ll take the opportunity to go out, Lana. Feel better.” 

Theron lit out of there before he could read her face any further. 

About three quarters of the way to the warehouse, he had the dull realization that he wasn’t just walking away from a confrontation. He was going to someone.

**

Forty hours. Akaavi checked the chrono over the bar. Forty hours, and then she would be back on active duty. 

She’d made her own choices. They had been foolish. The consequences were appropriate to the medical readouts. She’d even consulted the Holonet, and the restrictions the Captain had placed on her were not onerous, assuming she took her medicines as instructed.

Akaavi had taken them right down to the precise, exact minute she’d started dosing herself. One week, no more. In the meantime, however, she had not been inactive. She had tightened security protocols on the ship. Now, Shan had started feeding her intel about the Mandalorian residents of Rishi. That was news to her, when the Captain had first mentioned it. The wilds of Rishi didn’t lack prey for a hunter to work with, but it seemed off to Akaavi that they gave up bounty hunting in favor of slave trading as partners of the Nova Blades.

An old Mando saying: Slaving was like hunting mice: no challenge, no honor, and cruel to the mice.

If slaving was acceptable but working with the Order of Revan was not, what sort of Mandalorians were they? Were they dar’manda’ by their actions? And who had they been before? Where had they been before? 

As Akaavi sipped her vanilla cream soda (no spike, she’d made clear to Guss), she combed through the images supplied by Shan. The helmets were all different. No sigils. The visors – the visors were the same shape on a number of them. It was a strange thing to mandate on a Mandalorian suit of armor, but not out of the question. But then there was the complication of other Mandalorians who wore different visors. Some of them matched each other.

Akaavi scowled. It wouldn’t surprise her if they were a conglomeration of outcasts, of failed warriors from across the stars. They just washed up here on Rishi. 

And yet….

Akaavi’s train of thought was interrupted as Eva and Risha emerged from the backrooms, trailing behind their business associates for the night. Stranger, less rough crowd than usual. Bowdaar brought up the rear, and he seemed inordinately pleased. 

Eva was talking to Risha but then stopped, abruptly enough that Risha looked over at her and stopped walking. Eva had seen something outside through the open doors of the warehouse. More likely, someone outside. Akaavi shoved her datapad into a small compartment behind the bar, which caught Guss’ attention. “You have a view outside?” Akaavi asked.

Guss took a few steps back to look at the holovid cam he’d hastily rigged up to view the exterior, in the general vicinity that Eva was looking. “Uh oh.”

“How big of an ‘uh oh’?” Akaavi asked, watching the doorway and watching Eva stare outside.

“Grand scheme of things, not very big. Next three days, massive headache. May want to hide the extra ammunition.” 

Three days, massive headache, hide the ammo –

“Are you karking kidding me?” Akaavi got out of her seat and came around to Guss’ side of the bar. She stared at the lurking figure on the docks of Rishi.

How?

How in the galaxy did this idiot manage to find them right at the moment they were going to deal with other Mandalorians? Akaavi only had thirty-nine hours, forty minutes to go until she was medically clear. 

“Kriff, it’s Gronn,” she swore out loud. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh. Old Friends in Unexpected Places.


	16. Rishi Op, Day 9, Night:  I'll Be Seeing You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eva's past comes back around again, but in far more benevolent (and far less intelligent) form. Theron deals one more time with Marcus Trant and his other agents.

Akaavi wasn’t sure if Bowdaar had heard her or if Gronn had drawn close enough to the door to see him. Either way, the Wookiee’s posture stiffened momentarily before murmuring something to Risha. 

Eva – Eva was already walking toward him, as if compelled. He had that kind of power over her, and Akaavi never understood it. Nobody did. 

Akaavi heard the gravelly voice before she saw the tell-tale helmet live and in color within the warehouse, but only a moment before. Light from the warehouse glinted off his visor as he almost stepped into the light. “Evita.” 

“Oh, extra bad timing.” Guss carefully poked Akaavi in the elbow with one finger, minimizing contact, before backing all the way up away from her as he pointed toward the main entrance.

Agent Shan was here.

Before Akaavi could say anything to him or yell out to Eva, Gronn fired off two grapples – one to the roof of the warehouse, and the other around Eva’s waist. Her surprise was almost immediately supplanted by laughter as she was yanked toward him, and then the pair disappeared up into the night.

Agent Shan saw the whole thing, but Akaavi was quick to notice he didn’t move. He didn’t panic and run to where they had stood. He looked at Risha and Bowdaar, who were rolling their eyes and walking toward her and Guss at the bar. She and Guss hadn’t moved, and minus their displeasure at the intruder’s presence, they hadn’t reacted out of fear either.

Akaavi believed Theron Shan was owed an explanation.

**

**_3640 BBY_ **

**_13 years after the Treaty of Coruscant_ **

**_Days after the Battle of Corellia_ **

_She heard it before she saw it: something small, something struggling. Little squeaks of distress were still able to penetrate the dust and ruin of Coronet City._

_Eva rounded a corner, but she folded herself behind it when she found what she had heard. Some huge Houk had a child Selonian by the throat, dangling him far above the street with a single thick hand. “You know, I used to find baby animals like you when I was a kid. I wonder if you make the same noise when you get squished.”_

_The young creature squawked again and struggled all the more. Eva had enough, too. She audibly unholstered both blasters. “You put him down. Nicely.” The Houk turned his head to see her, but there was no recognition on his face that he wished to understand her instructions._

_The safeties came off next. “You put him down while he’s still alive. You let him run away, still alive. Or I will space you.”_

_“You ain’t nothing, girly. I bet I could pop his head like a zit before—”_

_Even after everything had happened, Eva was a damn fine shot. Two bolts burned through the Houk’s arm. She heard his bellow, and Eva was off – she wasn’t built for speed, but goddammit she was going to try to make it._

_As her vision bounced with each step, Eva saw the muscles tense as he tried to live up to his bet, but the damage she’d inflicted was too severe – after precious important moments of hesitation and determination, he dropped the child with a final angry splutter._

_Eva wasn’t a fast runner, but somehow, she had reached the child before he could tumble to the duracrete beneath them. She broke the child’s fall with an arm, slinging him behind her and the flare of her long, blastweave coat. The spin and the weight caused her off-hand blaster to fly out of her hand, clattering somewhere into the ruins. She felt the Selonian’s small body inhale sharply, ready to cry for his mother – he was fine for now._

_The fact she stood between him and an enraged Houk – Eva was not fine for now._

_She thrust out the still-hot blaster ready to fire again as the Houk attempted to stand up straight again, his arms useless. “I’ll burn you down. Get out of here.”_

_The Houk sneered at her. “Gonna tell me to pick on someone my own size?”_

_Before Eva could answer, he was charging._

_Her finger instinctively pulled the trigger, and the bolt flew true into his shoulder, toppling him off to the side – but not off his feet entirely. He was still moving, still trying to get at her –_

_Another blaster zipped off to Eva’s left, and whatever meat was in the Houk’s head skittered across the duracrete._

_A rough, deep voice came through a modulator. “Pick on someone your own size. Satisfied?”_

_Eva blindly reached back to press the Selonian child’s head into her coat, and after a few stutter steps, he picked up on the fact she was trying to lead him away. He didn’t need to see this._

_Given it was a Houk’s head, the blaster was high-powered – military grade, not a personal sidearm. Eva’s brain was rapidly weaving pieces together as the suit of body armor from the wanted posters came into view._

_The Grand Champion of the Great Hunt. His helmet was trained on her and the tiny second set of legs that stuck out from behind her coat._

_The Selonian child squeaked again behind her. “I can run home,” he pleaded into Eva’s coat, desperately._

_Eva regarded the still, silent figure in front of her. She tilted her head slightly to her left, and he nodded. She let go of the child. “Run straight ahead, to your left, and get underground. Don’t stop, don’t look back. You never saw me.”_

_“I won’t!” The boy was off like a shot, not even looking at the Grand Champion or back at the woman who had cloaked him in the night and hidden him away for vital, precious seconds._

_The two figures stood in the ruins of Coronet City. They weren’t partisans. They didn’t have to kill each other on sight. Hopefully._

_“Grand Champion?” Eva ventured first._

_“That’s me. Heard my advertisement?” came the shockingly cheery response._

_The tension broke. Eva internally had to recalibrate. So much for the cold-hearted, cold-blooded murderer of the Republic Chancellor. “Yeah. Catchy.”_

_The armor creaked as it moved toward her. “Didn’t expect to see you down here, after the fireworks in the sky.”_

_“I’m just a smuggler. Everything else is a misunderstanding,” she answered._

_“People who are ‘just smugglers’ don’t stick their neck out for others. And they don’t show up in the background of major Pub propaganda,” he retorted. He towered over her, and the rill on his helmet made him even taller._

_Eva cast a look back at the remains of the Houk. “Thanks.”_

_The voice modulator scoffed. “Pfft. I should thank you. Been looking for a reason to space that asshole for ages. You gave me the shot.”_

_Eva turned to look up at him. “He part of your crew?”_

_The body language of the Grand Champion’s shrug conveyed haplessness. “I picked him up on a prison planet –”_

_“There’s your first mistake.” Eva didn’t feel like sharing she had feeling her Belsavis pick-up was also a really bad idea – but for now, Ivory was useful. Very useful._

_“Yeah, tell me about it.” The Grand Champion turned his head to look where the boy had gone. “My crew and I aren’t Imps. We work for them but –”_

_“I work for the Pub. I’m not Pub,” Eva reassured him._

_The Grand Champion looked down at her. “Even if you were, I wasn’t going to let him hurt you. Or the kid. What kind of a guy hurts defenseless things for fun? I mean, you’re not defenseless, but the kid…” The Grand Champion looked over her should at the remains of the Houk, and Eva wouldn’t have judged him harshly if he’d pumped another few blaster bolts into him._

_Indeed, what kind of man hurt the defenseless, the vulnerable?_

_Eva knew._

_The Grand Champion was rambling on, unaware of her internal turmoil. “Been trying to put things to rights around here. Empire did a nasty thing to the Selonians. I did my part, but -- I don’t – my crew and I aren’t like that. Especially now since he’s gone.…”_

_Eva cut right to the chase. “You got a bounty on me? Already?”_

_The Grand Champion startled. “No. I think they need more to go on than ‘shadowy possibly female figure.’” He paused. “But who really knows who the Voidhound is anyway? Could be anyone.”_

_The pair studied each other a few moments more. Then the Grand Champion held out a hand. “Gronn.”_

_“Eva.” She grasped it._

_**_

Well, that was an unexpected twist.

Theron fought back a number of urges, one of which was to storm right out of there. That was the least logical of the bunch, but it was the one that burned most. He noticed Risha and Bowdaar drifting toward the bar where Akaavi and Guss perched, already discussing this development. 

When in Coruscant…

Theron joined them at the bar, calmly. “Where’s Corso?” he asked, voice low.

Risha bit back a laugh. “Off tonight, fortunately. Otherwise, he would have been scaling the roof like a fool trying to chase those two. He really doesn’t like Gronn.”

“The only one who likes Gronn is Fuzz Face here, and even that defies logic,” Guss countered. Then he reached for a glass and poured himself a vanilla cream soda. “But he’s not that bad.”

“He’s not the worst,” Risha clarified. Akaavi grumbled slightly, but there was a grudging … acceptance? …resignation? Toward the man who had just left the warehouse.

Bowdaar defended his opinion. “There are certain things we never have to worry about with him. Ever. As long as they’re stubborn as they are, they’re both safe with each other.”

Theron watched the conversation turn around the bar as he felt his implants grow warm on his forehead. Through T3’s back door access, he was trying to remember and search for ---

The Grand Champion. That was him. Despite the night obscuring most of him, the way the light reflected off the helmet reminded him of certain intel holos he’d collected.

“How did you cross paths with the Grand Champion?” Theron asked, calling up the parts of the Korriban raid files he’d privately kept reserved in his memory. 

All of them at once answered, “Corellia.”

Where Darmas Pollaran ended, the Grand Champion began, it seemed. He’d known both agents had been on Makeb, but the Voidhound had already become his first choice. 

Akaavi let a hissing breath out through her teeth and shook her head. “It’s a strange association between those two. Mostly due to him. Gronn is a zealot. He goes beyond Resol’nare. He wasn’t born to Mandalore or to the culture, but he’s taken on some of the more …ascetic practices. He never takes the helmet off. He doesn’t come out during the day unless it’s for a kill. He does not break bread with his fellow Mando’a.” Akaavi grimly looked out into the night, her captain long-disappeared. “He’s the worst for her. And the best.”

“How does that work?” Theron asked.

Bowdaar barked some clarification. “Nothing deeper develops with them – but it’s honest. It’s clear. Nothing is hidden. She won’t live by his code, and he won’t take off the helmet for her.” Bowdaar stopped and then cast a look over at the girls and Guss, not daring to say more. 

Risha cut in, bluntly. “He doesn’t take anything else off for her, in case you were jealous.” 

Theron was mindful not to look at Risha. Eva had joked about not having a Mando kink in private, but he hadn’t realized that it wasn’t a joke. “So what’s the dynamic, then?”

Shaking his head, Bowdaar grumbled, “Humans ruin everything with genitalia – especially love.” Theron could pick up that his implants had most certainly substituted a more technical word for what Bowdaar said. The sentiment was there, though. The Wookiee got up and headed back to the dock to watch the card game. 

Love?

He must have asked aloud, because Akaavi gave a little sigh as she watched Bowdaar go. Her scowl lessened. “She loves him, and he loves her, I would suppose. But it’s not like what she feels for her crew. It’s not like – before. It has its limits. It’s self-destructive.”

Theron stared out into the night. “Why?”

Risha sighed. “Rebound. After everything, she latched –”

Akaavi shook her head emphatically. “He wasn’t first. You forgot the CorSec man,” she said to Risha. To Theron, “Older, wiser, devout to the Republic. Somewhat like you, Shan, but not at all. He knew she was rebounding and wanted nothing to do that.”

Risha nodded reluctantly. “Which didn’t sit well with her, because he wouldn’t take her to bed, and you know what she was probably thinking after – ” Risha didn’t continue the sentence. 

_Damaged goods_ , Eva had said.

“As long as Gronn follows his warped Way, he won’t take her to bed unless she takes on his strange little belief system. She won’t; she won’t be controlled like that. So he’s safe for her to run around with him…and Bowdaar likes him for that. He can’t betray her that way.” Akaavi’s voice turned tight and sharp. 

Theron remembered being vulnerable at 22, 23. Not in the same way she was. He…his issues in that department were different. 

Guss sipped his soda. “The problem is that they rather waste parsecs with each other instead of something deeper. It’s like fireworks when they’re working together – they get the job done, they have fun in the off hours – and like Risha said, not that type of fun.”

Given the fact he’d seen the Skavak footage (unbeknownst to them, but all the same), Theron found it bizarre that the crew were trying to defend her honor or virtue. “Her private life is her private life. It’s not my place to judge it, as a business partner on this op.”

Risha hummed with thoughtful look on her face – he’d almost say it was approvingly, but she always had a certain reserve. Risha was always guarded. 

Akaavi shook her head. “I think she’s selling herself short.”

“I think they’re going to get each other killed one day,” Guss added. “They don’t do quiet nights.”

Theron felt his heart sink slightly, but it was all out of his hands. He had nothing to say about her actions in her off-time – which this technically was.

Theron also knew himself well enough to know he was jealous. He’d watched her be whisked away without hesitation by another man, and he had a response to that. 

Not that he had any right, stake, or claim. The fact he _felt_ _\---_

Ugh.

Theron contemplated the option of heading back to the safehouse and to Lana and her pragmatism. 

“So, what did Lana order anyway before she left?”

**

“Why the hell are you here anyway?” The thrill of being stolen away was fading as Eva waited for him to administer his night cap. After the last few weeks, she didn’t have the same tolerance for this sort of thing.`

Especially since she wanted to join in. Gronn always could ferret out some new thrill. He never bored her.

The hiss came first, then the answer. “Crysta’s dead.”

Her brain stalled for a moment, trying to recall in the late night. “What?” Eva stepped closer, trying to get an angle on Gronn’s helmet, the Rishi lights bouncing off hm. He withdrew the hypospray from his neck cover.

“Crysta’s dead,” Gronn repeated. “My old handler. She got spaced here.” 

Eva leaned back against the building he’d scored the stims at. “Sorry. You on the hunt now?”

Gronn nodded. “Heard about the Red Hulls. Saw you.” He tilted his armored head toward her. “Got distracted. But I also need your help.”

Eva looked out back in the general direction of the warehouse for a moment. “Why me?”

Gronn rubbed at his neck. “Crysta’s daughter is a smuggler. Got in trouble with the Kanawyn Syndicate. I was wondering if you could – ”

Eva felt her temper well up involuntarily. “You don’t need my help. You need the Voidhound.”

Gronn had the grace to bow his head toward her. “Yeah. But I need my girl around too –”

“Gronn, every girl is your girl – me, Mako, Crysta’s kid now. Any damsel, anywhere – you’re a sucker for pretty women in trouble… Crysta’s kid looks cute, right?” Eva was only half-teasing; for someone who never showed his face, Gronn had a tendency to draw in good-looking women.

Maybe there was a helmet kink after all. 

“You say that, and I’ve never let you down,” he reminded her, brightly. The eagerness in his voice belied his occupation and the coolness with which he executed those job responsibilities.. 

Eva considered an idea for a moment before voicing it. “We can talk business tomorrow morning – and I don’t care what you think, I do business here during daylight hours. Be awake or be gone.” 

Her companion grunted. 

“Let’s keep it light tonight. No business. Just – how are you?” A pause. “What else do you have? Are you the only one who gets to have a good night?”

He chuckled. As Gronn’s hand approached her, she realized he’d long had a dose for her prepared. The hiss of the hypospray against her neck was ice cold, but it felt good in the humid Rishi night. “You sure you were careful?” A little fun was fine. Gronn-sized fun for Eva wasn’t so good; he stood close to 7 feet tall in his armor.

“Who does this more often, you or me?”

“I haven’t been good lately, so don’t ask.”

“….so how are you, Evita?”

“You want me talking about other men?”

There was a brief silence before he said, “Let’s say I owe you for a few inconveniences. I’ll listen.”

**

Dinner didn’t settle well on stake out. Again, the border between personal and professional interests was blurring for him, and he hated it – he hated it for the lack of discipline. He hated it for the wait. He hated it for the undue possessiveness he felt.

Theron had finally identified that unplaceable emotion he’d had back on Coruscant. When she’d been hunted by Mandalorians before. 

Akaavi had assured Theron that Gronn’s quirks didn’t include trying to claim bounties on the Voidhound. He’d known since the Battle of Corellia who she was. She’d also said Gronn wasn’t “for the Empire,” but Theron had his doubts. The man had killed Chancellor Janarus. 

Given Saresh’s tendencies to seek direct conflict with the Empire, Theron decided he could hate the Grand Champion just for that; Janarus wasn’t his favorite person by any means, but….the replacement was quick to grate on established agents and civil servants.

Theron lurked in the shadows of _Virtue’s Thief_. He wanted to make sure Eva did make it home. After an hour waiting after dinner, he finally heard them clamor across the docks. As he pitched his hearing implants toward them, his anger awakened. 

Eva was buzzing away on something, as her giggles echoed and her steps stumbled. Based on the way the beskar clinked against any available surface, Gronn wasn’t steady on his feet either – injectables? Hyposprays? 

The oblivious pair skirted around the far edge of the ship, away from where he was waiting, and they ascended a drop ladder to the roof of the ship. Eva’s laughter at Gronn’s stumbling didn’t improve Theron’s mood. After they’d both made it up without breaking their necks, he heard the male voice say, “Fuckin’ a, girly. You’d bring a man to knees with those cans.” 

“Yeah, but I can’t seem to draw you out of your can.” There was rapping noise, as Eva struck his helmet with a few well-placed knocks. “Love is shit, Gronn. Absolute shit.” She sat down hard on the roof the _Thief_.

“Totally shit. It rips your heart out, every time.” There was a loud clatter as Gronn collapsed next to her. “But we always work out. Too bad you’re too stubborn.”

“ _You’re_ too stubborn.” Eva let out a brief laugh. “You seem to run your mouth on an awful lot for a person who never lets me see him.”

“You see me all the time, Evita – I don’t hide _me_ , just the ugly mug.” 

That struck a chord.

“Mandos always seem to have something to hide. Don’t know whether it’s the job or the culture or what.” Theron could hear Eva lean back against the ship to look upward toward at the sky. 

“Some do. We’re not all the same,” Gronn replied, his voice increasingly distant as whatever was in his system took hold. 

“I know Akaavi isn’t like you,” Eva replied. “I don’t know anyone like you.”

“I’m _me_. I’m an indi—indiv—” The word slurred and tumbled out, and laughter erupted as the rest of the sentence became impossible to come out.

“Well, that’s three of you on this planet – Akaavi, you, and Torian…assuming he’s still putting up with you?”

“Torian loves me,” Gronn insisted. “You love me. And there are more of us than you think, Evita—”

Theron felt his lips curl back in a smirk as he heard Eva answer, “Oh? More Mandos? Here?” The faux innocence was laid on thick, and Theron almost laughed at her audacity.

“Maybe.”

“Mandalorians are decisive if nothing else. They must be here.”

Gronn seemed to sound confused for a moment. “You know them?”

“Oh, yeah. Akaavi knows everyone. I’m wondering if you know them.” There was a dull clunk of beskar, as if some part of Gronn was pushed against the hull of the ship.

“Um… yeah. They came from Coruscant, you know?” The voice was spaced out, increasingly distant.

“Yeah, I know. Lots of different helmets – how many clans?” Eva’s voice persisted.

“Dunno.”

“You happen to know one by the call name Torch?” 

Theron paused to listen – she might be pushing too hard.

“Vizla made the calendar. The way we are. And I’m ending 32 for vaaaaay-cation.” A solid, heavy CLUNK echoed into the night.

“The calendar?” Eva said to herself aloud. “Gronn – Gronn? Ah, kriff, you idiot.”

Theron heard Eva get to her feet and throw open a hatch on top of the _Thief_. “Son of a bantha, I hate you.” The beskar dragged across the helm of the ship before a moment of silence, then an audible crash down into the bowels of the ship. 

Theron only hesitated a moment before moving toward the gangplank of _Virtue’s Thief_ ; the crew had left it unlocked for him. He had no idea what he was going to say, but …

Vizla. Vizla. Vizla. The name _mattered_ , and Theron _knew_ it. He punted the question over to T3 – he was distracted.

The _Thief’s_ lights were low, but not out. He crept around the turn to medbay in time to see a pair of men’s boots disappear into the doorway. 

“If you’re going to follow me into my ship, you can help me haul his sorry ass on to the medbay scanner,” Eva’s voice called out. 

She shouldn’t have heard him. He was a spy. 

Theron apparently wore a disappointed expression as he stepped into room, since Eva looked up at him and her face immediately softened as she saw him. “Don’t be like that. I know every sound in this ship – everyone’s footsteps.”

Theron took some comfort in the fact that he could _see her_. Not the pirate, not the Voidhound, not whoever she pretended to be for the job. Theron could see Eva.

She held his gaze as she knelt on the floor next to the still, unconscious body in armor. Eva continued, “You… aren’t part of the crew. You don’t sound right in here.” She seemed to be holding back some key word, something she wanted to say to him.

“You certainly seem to have your wits about you,” Theron blurted out, instead of letting the words come out of her… or him. 

He winced almost immediately, but Eva only gave him a wry smile. “I’m guessing the crew clued you in about Gronn?”

Theron gave her a brief nod. “Your life, off-duty,” he reiterated. Then he awkwardly gestured in the direction of the warehouse. “I came in as you left.”

“Oh.” Eva closed her eyes and had the grace to grimace. “Help me get him up on the table. I think he overdosed on his stims,” she said calmly, eyes opening and rising to a crouched position. “Please.”

She added that unprompted. She raised her chin slightly, eyes tired. She knew it was a significant request, given the context. 

Theron felt a pang of guilt. Then he helped her haul the Mandalorian up onto a medbay table More accurately, she helped him (Theron was far stronger). The med scanner went critically red on nearly all stats. Whatever Gronn had consumed, it had him firmly in its deadly grasp.

As Eva prepped a reversal, Theron felt compulsed to ask, “Should you make one for yourself first?”

Her lips quirked in the harsh light of the medbay work table. “He gave me nitrous – poor man’s giggle stim. The dumb stuff you get your hands on as a teenager.” She cast a look at the prone body. “He definitely went for something harder though.”

Relief shot through Theron. He couldn’t say anything: “Good” was insensitive. “Thank you” made it sound as if she did it for him – which he didn’t dare assume she did. “Don’t do this anymore” was too plaintive and revealing. 

Fortunately, his message to T3 was finally answered with new data, saving him from any actual emotional introspection. He thumbed his implants at his temple to page through the information rapidly. “According to Republic intel, a bounty hunter named Shae Vizla aided in the sacking of Coruscant, specifically the destruction of the Jedi Temple.” He frowned at the thought.

“The calendar,” murmured Eva as her eyes returned to her work, hands still quick. “The Treaty of Coruscant – we date everything in reference to it.” She cast a look at Gronn before finishing her task. 

“Strange place for a hero of the Empire to end up. This isn’t exactly a hub of activity or even an upscale retirement,” Theron leaned back against a wall in med bay, thinking. “According to T3, she’s become leader of Clan Vizla. About five, ten years ago, they relocated here – and now live quiet lives.”

Eva made a face. “That’s some extra strange Mando activity. Gronn is a weirdo, but at least he’s still in the Game.” Eva brought a prepped hypospray to Gronn’s bedside. “This will bring him out of it, so if you have questions, you may want to be ready to ask him….if he’s awake after all that.”

With nimble fingers – and more than just one practice session, Theron speculated – Eva easily found a way around Gronn’s neck guard, and he heard the tell-tale pressurized hiss. Gronn’s limbs jerked once, but he went still, his readings returning to yellow and green areas of acceptable function. 

Gronn didn’t wake up, however. 

Eva exhaled and tossed the empty hypospray in the general direction of the medbay’s sterilizer and stared at the screen with her hands on her hips. She didn’t screen any of her emotions out as she looked at the bio readings and at the man on the table. 

The words “Are you sure you’re ok?” crept out of Theron’s mouth, unbidden. He wanted to take them back and swallow them. 

Friends care if the other lives or dies, his inner voice reminded him. 

It’s one thing to live or die on a mission he gave. It’s another to be involuntarily in danger. But this – this was her life outside of him – that’s _not_ his area of concern.

As Theron waged an internal war, Eva smoothly hopped up on the other table in medbay. The computer scanned her, and her readings came through, green lit all the way. “I’m fine,” she told him. Then she gave him a mischievous look. “The good stuff is on the third or fourth screen, if you wanted to indulge any curiosities.”

Theron stifled a laugh and made no moves toward the screen. He was satisfied that she _wasn’t_ about to crash. He… could smile for that. And she smiled back at him. “That wasn’t exactly what I meant.”

Eva tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “You know it won’t disappear like magic. I just… get through it.”

“The grey area between being around vice and indulging – I know it’s the cover, but---” Theron tried to articulate his worry without _admitting_ \--. 

“I’m fine, Theron,” she firmly interrupted him. “Not all of us are so skilled at evasion or stalwart resistance in the face of temptation.”

“I wouldn’t call it stalwart,” he corrected her all too quickly. There was a part of him that started to rail about inappropriateness, about too much disclosure before the op was over –

And then there too large a part of him that was pleased when she gave him a knowing grin and playfully swung her legs back and forth on her perch. “So I take it I’m not the only one with interesting dreams and not-so-idle thoughts?” 

She ---

She thought of _him_ like that. The way he hadn’t wanted to think of her but seemingly couldn’t help it. Since Katalla, when they posed as intimates (and he had been left with a strange feeling of loss when he woke up alone). The accidental meeting on Nar Shaddaa (they couldn’t stop staring at each other). That moment of indiscretion on Manaan (across the desk or one of them in the chair?). When he had spoken to her as if they lived together for the sake of a bouncer (it wasn’t the first time he’d wondered she was like in private life). 

And all those nights in between now and when he first saw her in Carrick Station (and the way she’d deliberately shown herself off to him in the cantina--)

Eva thought of him like that. And that made Theron feel a thrill – forbidden, but something he couldn’t help but rejoice in.

Theron didn’t stop himself from affirming her statement. “No, not the only one.” 

As her face brightened, he saw those dark eyes start to weave thoughts and consider options. He couldn’t help but wonder whether one of those thoughts would involve Gronn waking up very jealous due to the noise –

Her commlink chirped in the thick silence, and her attention was immediately drawn to it; she’d been waiting, apparently. She read the message and her eyes brows raised before her gaze returned to Theron. “Do you know what I was doing before my village idiot showed up?”

Theron let out a short laugh before shaking his head ‘no.’

“I was in talks with the local sex workers,” Eva proclaimed proudly. “Do you know that sex work is legal on Rishi as long as it isn’t coerced?”

“Can’t say I did extensive research on the matter,” Theron answered honestly.

“Well, the thing is, coercion happens anyway – we know it does, based on the Nova Blades and their allies. And to be honest, not every establishment has a benevolent proprietor. So the Red Hulls and their Captain had a meeting with several of the madams here in Raider’s Cove that feel that with adequate support from the right people in the right places, the sex workers could unionize and protect against such offenses. The Red Hulls would be able to enforce union demands and essentially run out anyone who doesn’t want to play.”

Theron was quick to catch on. “And wherever the women go, the men tend to follow on a planet like this. Things are about to get hot here for any remaining Nova Blades and like-minded groups.”

Eva nodded. “I said I was going to make this place better – not everyone would say encouraging prostitution would be a good route, but if it’s voluntary – if it is someone’s own business, not just an illusion or some show put on to make janes and johns feel less guilty –” She trailed off, looking back down at the message which apparently read in the affirmative. The unionization was going to happen.

And the smuggler delivered once again. Maybe not the way the Pub or the Imps wanted it. But she did it in a way that pleased the locals, who would cover for her if agents came looking (just as Theron had all those months ago).

“Good work,” Theron said quietly. She was doing something that extended beyond their operation – after she was gone, this change may yet remain. 

Eva look up from her commlink again, and Theron took a step toward her – she was in reach. 

Some unearthly noise emanated from the man on the table, and his vitals ticked up slightly. That distracted Eva, who went to his bedside. “Gronn, you in there?”

Another vile noise erupted before words attempted to form. The armored figure awkwardly lurched into a sitting position. Voice low and even rougher than it had been previously, Gronn managed to growl out, “You Agent Shan?”

Theron didn’t answer him. He only stared at the Mandalorian in silence. Gronn awkwardly shoved himself further forward, a wavering right hand held out to the SIS Agent. “I’m Gronn. I’m Marcus Trant’s man on the inside of the Revanites.”

Theron stared at the hand and then at the helmet that extended it. 

He had to fight the urge to bounce his fist off it. Goddamn Trant, again.

“You know, the one who supplied the intel about the hit on Evita here,” Gronn offered, still addled. 

Theron did not move. He did not speak.

Theron saw Eva move in his periphery. “Excuse me?” her sharp voice cut through the silence in medbay.

“Oh, don’t get mad at him, babe. He didn’t know about it til – til he blew up Carrick with Trant – Trant told me not to holo call him,” Gronn drawled, attempting to turn himself toward her while maintaining his precarious seat on the medbay bed “I wanted to – I swear, beautiful. But Trant’s giving me – giving us – the deal of a life time…” The speech began to slur. “You gotta believe me – I would have gone fought ‘em all for you.”

Eva’s face was unreadable as she calmly reached for a hypospray. “I think you need a nap. Say good night, Gronn.”

“Goodnight, Gronn,” he repeated back to her. “And say sorry to Mako. Again,” his voice hitched up slightly as she pushed his neckguard out of the way to shoot it right into his neck.

The Mandalorian slumped back, unconscious, his armor rattling as his limbs went limp. He looked like a puppet with his strings cut. 

Gronn had been the person to find Theron on Katalla, which led to Trant using both Theron and Eva for his own means and ends. Gronn had been Trant’s inside man for the Revanites.

Gronn could have stopped the assassination attempt on Eva. 

Suddenly, a panicked idea surfaced in the SIS agent’s mind: Trant had used Theron’s intel for the Korriban job to get Gronn for his own use. …

…he’d set that all in motion, inadvertently. 

A curse in Old High Gamorrese vented into the medbay of _Virtue’s Thief_. “The old man is still trying to manipulate the situation. And he managed to find your village idiot to do it.”

Eva didn’t answer. She still stood next to Gronn’s bed, empty hypospray in hand.

Now she didn’t look fine. “Eva?”

“I asked him directly what brought him here. That wasn’t it.” A beat. “He said he needed the Voidhound for a job. Yeah, that’s true – he just needs me in that capacity for multiple reasons now.” Her dissatisfaction oozed from the words. “I guess at this stage of the game – how big I am, how Voidfleet is – I shouldn’t assume someone wants to see _me_.” Eva tiredly tossed the hypospray toward the sterilizer, missing this time. “Even you put up with my bullshit because I’m useful to the op.”

That stirred him. “No. Not just that.” Theron dared to take a step closer to her now. “I have to see this op through – expose the conspiracy, save the galaxy. But as I said – dreams and thoughts here, too. I’ve waited months to see _you_ again. Not just to progress the op.”

Theron ran out of words. So he just looked at her without the SIS mask of neutrality in place – he looked at her like he wanted to, honestly. Like he wanted her.

She didn’t reach out to touch him – she knew that was against the rules. A slightly frustrated smile crossed her face. “You know that this is far more drawn out than it has to be?”

“I don’t want there to be any confusion about who I want and for what reasons.” He’d said that out on the roof a few nights ago. He still meant it. 

Theron could see Eva, not the Voidhound, just as Eva could see Theron, not just the SIS agent. He could see the moment when she had that tiny revelation – and he could have run for days on the high that came with how she looked at him thereafter. 

Theron didn’t remember exactly how they ended the night – what words were exchanged. He had to get back to the safehouse and his data, she had to hail Mako (whoever she was). They agreed to deal with the Gronn situation in the morning.

But he remembered the _feeling_ of being seen, and, for once, the spy didn’t mind as he finally made it back to his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gronn first overtly appeared in "The Parting of the Ways" in Eva's recounting of Makeb and indirectly in Trant's briefing to Theron about the conspiracy. However, he's been floating around in the universe since the first story "Who She Is in the Dark" as the unnamed Grand Champion of the Great Hunt. He also is referred to in "The Cosmic Deck" as the man who locates Theron for Trant. We'll find out more about why exactly he's on Rishi in the coming chapters.
> 
> Thanks for reading -- I had medical issues that prevented an update last week and a late one this week.


End file.
